


more than friends

by androgenius



Series: Grancy [2]
Category: Nancy Drew (Video Games)
Genre: Cheating, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-31 15:04:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 50,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8582968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/androgenius/pseuds/androgenius
Summary: The follow-up to "the kid's alright," this sequel explores Nancy and Grigor's relationship eight years after the events of Labyrinth of Lies.





	

**Author's Note:**

> All the credit in the world goes, once again, to veterization for everything from brainstorming and plotting to reading and editing, and this story would never have happened without her ideas, her guidance, or her endless patience.

It's just under eight years until Nancy sees Grigor again.

He writes to her for almost three years before the letters start to taper off.

Nancy doesn't say anything. At first it's because time seems to get away from her, slipping through her fingers like smoke before she realizes that it's been another two weeks since she received his last letter. The cases she finds herself jetsetting off to in order to get missing him off her mind make it easy to rationalize her silence, Nancy telling herself that it's been too long since she received his last letter every time she sits down to try and write to him, and that she might as well wait until the next one arrives.

It's a well-practiced excuse she maintains even as it grips at her stomach in guilt. In truth, she doesn't know what to write. She misses him so much that it hurts to think about, something she learned fairly early on while writing him letters.

Every stroke of her fountain pen seems to hurt worse than the last, memories of their week together rushing back whenever she lets herself so much as picture his face again. She always kept little souvenirs from her cases-- of course she did-- but this one is different.

When she meets up with Melina upon her return-- and her own release from police questioning-- she makes sure to grab the cast posters to pocket for her own safe-keeping. She keeps a shard of pottery for her general collection and his seal to keep in the drawer with his letters and his cast picture.

After a while, she comes to realize that opening her bedside drawer is a risky endeavor. She doesn't mean to start avoiding it, but when he starts writing less frequently, she pretends not to notice through the guilt-riddled relief.

Nancy has never been a cryer. She's not about to become one now.

Coming back home turned out to be more comfortable than she expected it to be.

River Heights welcomes her back into its warm arms as though nothing ever changed. In a reality where everything changed, the pretense is comforting. She reminds herself that Ned has always been true to her, has always been a good boyfriend, and tries to forget that there was ever anyone else in her life.

When she forgets her and Ned's anniversary, she tries to ignore the fact that she feels less guilt over it than she's felt over not writing for months now, and when Ned confesses his love to her, she tries to pretend he was the first one to do so.

It doesn't work, and she tells him she's not sure how she feels. It's a lie, and Nancy makes sure to bring back a teddy bear for Ned to make up for her failures as a girlfriend. It doesn't even scratch the surface, but Ned has never cared about that.

Nancy wonders if there's anything she could do that he wouldn't be able to forgive, and ultimately decides that there isn't.

It adds to the weight of the guilt already on her shoulders, and she slides another one of Grigor's letters into her drawer, reminding herself that he'd promised to tell her when he got out of prison.

But that letter never arrives.

So she tries to book a trip to Greece to see him.

Tries to. Another case crops up as quickly as the last one had, an important one she couldn't put off, Bess and George's grandfather in peril.

After that, they decide to surprise-whisk her away to what was intended to be a relaxing, mystery-free vacation (is there such a thing?) as a thank you only for Nancy to promptly discover the dark secrets that the owner of the bed and breakfast was hiding.

There's always something else that comes up. Of course, it doesn't help that no one in her life knows about Grigor. If Nancy had told Bess and George that they ought to put off their little vacation because she'd promised the Hardy boys she'd go visit, they wouldn't have so much as bat an eye. But for her to tell them that she was going to see a suspect in prison-- not for the sake of a case, but just because she wanted to-- it would look suspect. And, well. She couldn't very well tell them about what had really happened in Greece. In retrospect, even to Nancy the week she spent there feels more like a dream than anything else. A little bite of heaven she was allowed to taste for just a moment before it was taken away from her, forever cursed to live an existence to rival even that of Tantalus.

Over time, the letters start to pile up, until one day, they just stop.

It takes her a little while to notice. The space between his letters had increased gradually over time, so unlike her behavior during the first few months or so, Nancy was not longer racing out to the mailbox every single day. So when she doesn't get a letter for two, three months, she doesn't realize it at first. Much as the gradual improvement of one's health following an illness might escape one at first, the return to the banality of the usual status quo goes unnoticed for some time.

After all, before Greece, there were no letters from anyone.

It isn't until a few months later that she realizes how long it's been, an unintended result of Nancy frantically searching every drawer in her room for her lock-picking kit. Opening her bedside drawer brings with it a rush of realizations-- and not only the fact that her lock-picking kit isn't in there, either.

The memories seem to wash over her like a torrential downpour, merciless and unforgiving. She sees the date of his last letter--September 24th, her 21st birthday-- and gleans from more than just the snow coming down in heavy, thick flakes outside her bedroom window that it's been too long since his last letter for her to assume that this is just an anomaly-- that he's just been busy.

He promised he'd tell her when he got out, but then Nancy starts to consider-- if he had been released-- the possible scenarios of what might have happened. What if Thanos had come after him? What if he had sicced Kronos on him, just wanting the walking liability that was Grigor eliminated?

(She tries not to think about that.)

What if he was in hiding and had no choice but to remain silent?

Once more, she considers a trip to Greece only for the theft of a priceless jewel, a family heirloom, to call her to China, instead.

A year later, she makes a business of her detective work, years of volunteering in the field finally paying off. She's not an amateur anymore. She's a professional, her name known by more than a few people throughout the world. She has good connections, and the cases slowly start to trickle in at so rapid a pace that she finds herself forced to turn down some cases lest she double-book anyone.

Flooded with work, it becomes easy to forget about Greece, about the man that stole her heart four years ago. She gets an apartment in Chicago, pretends to lose her virginity to Ned, and hopes that, wherever he is, he's alive and happy.

 

 

&

 

 

Chicago has always had brutal winters, the telltale chill creeping slowly but steadily over the lakes before sweeping the city up in an inescapable cold that seeps into one's bones, snow quick to follow.

This winter is no different.

It's been just about seven and a half years since the last time she saw Grigor, Nancy celebrating her 26th with friends and little fanfare, save for perhaps the gift baskets and edible arrangements some of her former clients tend to send on holidays. It's easy to ignore that it's been five years since she last heard from him if she keeps busy, happily surrounding herself with the company of her friends whenever she finds any downtime between cases. Lunch with George downtown, shopping trips to the mall with Bess (George never does want to go with her, much to her chagrin), movie nights with the whole crew, date nights with Ned followed by mediocre sex (that she fights not to compare to something she can't have anymore). All combined, it proves so good a distraction that Nancy just about forgets anything was ever amiss at all.

 

 

&

 

 

The case comes up in one of the many voicemails she's usually left with following an international trip-- Australia, in this instance-- and Nancy would likely have passed on it if the owner of the theatre hadn't sounded so desperate over the phone.

So she calls him back to set up a meeting, the relief in his voice palpable even over the clinical distance provided by her phone line. From her understanding of what Mr. Reinhardt had been willing to disclose over the phone, it seems like a fairly standard case. With the opening of their production of _Romeo and Juliet_ less than two weeks away, the owner has been panicking as a result of increasingly creepy-- and threatening-- events targeting his lead actor. He'd told her that they could discuss the matter in greater detail when she came to see him in person, nevertheless taking the time to stress that, regardless of what sort of expenditures it took on his part to help her investigation, he'd be willing to pay it, and that she'd be well-compensated for her work.  

It's why she's now here, Nancy shivering as a rush of stinging cold air seems to follow her inside the vestibule. From the way it's starting to come down outside, she can only assume that they're headed straight for another blizzard-- the second of the season thus far, and definitely not the last.

Taking a moment to try and kick the remaining snow off her boots, Nancy finally leaves the chilly confines of the vestibule, only to be received by the warm embrace of the inside of the theatre. Taking in a deep breath, she lets out a soft sigh of relief, memories of her time in Canada and Wisconsin promptly seeming to rush back to her.

It had been an easier time back then, sure. But beyond that…

Letting her gaze travel over the posters in the lobby, she quickly finds the most recent one featuring _Romeo and Juliet_. The company certainly seems to follow a theme in its production choices-- classics, mostly Shakespeare with the occasional splash of Ibsen thrown into the midst here or there. The posters are abstract, but timely, something Nancy quickly realizes made sense. If any recasting needs to be done, having posters featuring the faces of the lead actors would likely make for a considerable liability in such a small theatre.

She also notes that the company-- barring a few exceptions-- seems to stick with the same leads until one leaves and has to be recast. A genuine theatre troupe, then.

Her mind wanders to Grigor, and Nancy squeezes her own hand, willing herself to focus.

The lead that she needs to be concerned with here, after all, is not Grigor Karakinos. It's Giovanni Stagliano, a fairly recent addition to the theatre from the looks of it, his female costar, Annie Nesbitt, appearing to have joined the troupe at the same time as him.

Making her way through the halls as she continues to study the posters, it doesn't take her all too long to locate the director's office to knock, the theatre itself fairly small and relatively easy to navigate.

"Oh-- Nancy, yes? Do come in; the door isn't locked."

She regrets it the second she opens the door, Nancy fighting the instinct that seems to be screaming at her to just let her jaw drop.

"Oh you have _got_ to be kidding me-- Brady, _please_ tell me you're not Giovanni Stagliano."

Mr. Reinhardt looks from one to the other, evidently with no small amount of confusion. "I… take it you two know each other, then?"

Brady grins. "We... do indeed! Ms. Drew here and I go _way_ back."

"No… _that_ makes it sound like we were ever friends--" She never _was_ good at controlling her temper around Brady. "Ugh, just-- just answer the question."

" _No_ , I did not change my name. _Please_ , part of the reason to go see this show at all is because _Brady Armstrong_ is in it, not some no-name theatre actor."

Mr. Reinhardt's expression tells her perfectly well that this is a line of dialogue he's gone down about a dozen or so times prior to now, Nancy pursing her lips as she takes off her coat to hang up before going to sit down opposite the director, bag at her side.

"Well, I'm glad to hear it. It means I don't have to turn down the case."

For a moment, Brady seems flummoxed, looking from one to the other. "Case? Oh, I didn't know the little… _inconveniences_ really warranted the involvement of an amateur _detective_ \--"

"Actually, just _detective_ now, thank you," she says almost tartly, reaching down into her handbag for one of her business cards to hand to him.

" _Well_ , color me impressed! In that case, I doubt you'll end up sticking around for too long… there isn't exactly a _case_ to investigate. Still-- you should drop by my dressing room when you're done."

"And just _why_ exactly would I want to do that?"

"To engage in more of our salacious banter, of course." Brady shoots her a cocky smile as he heads out the door, Nancy taking in a _very_ deep breath before turning her attention to Mr. Reinhardt.

"I… trust that I will not be required to do _that_ as part of my contract?"

"You may investigate as you please-- frankly, I am just glad that you are here at all, and not just because of the weather."

"I take it they haven't just been… _inconveniences_ , then?" Brady Armstrong misrepresenting information. _Shocking_.

"I… am sorry about him, but unfortunately there isn't much I can do. He-- quite literally-- bought his way into getting a part. He wanted the lead, but… well."

"I take it money _can't_ actually buy anything?"

"It… would appear so, yes. And thank goodness for that. I'm fairly certain that Brady Armstrong in the lead would have led this theatre into financial ruin."

Nancy can't really say she's surprised to hear it, slowly nodding as she pulls out a notepad and pen to start writing.

"Tell me more about these accidents."

Reinhardt takes in a deep breath as he settles back into his chair, taking a moment to get comfortable. "They're not… all accidents, exactly, though we have also had plenty of those. It's just been one thing after another. First the threats started trickling in-- deliberately vague, typed, no markings to distinguish the print from any other-- and then whoever's idea it was to send them in the first place started following through.

"First one… Gio came back to his dressing room after rehearsal to see a noose hanging from his ceiling and a chair positioned underneath it. Kind of… shook him, you know? The way it would anyone, I imagine. Then… someone replaced all of our prop rapiers with real ones. And I don't mean the kind used to fence, mind you. I mean the sword version, of course. And _sharp_ , at that. And the actors… well, they play around with all kinds of things backstage in their downtime as I'm sure you can imagine, so if Gio hadn't caught that little detail at that time…" Reinhardt shakes his head.

"I think about that more than I should, probably, what would have happened if we'd just started rehearsing with real swords. We got real lucky on that one. And real worried after that, too-- at least, I did. Of course, the culprit completely threw us off after that-- we were looking for anything that could potentially be lethal, and then Gio ends up with itching powder all over the inside of his costume. We had to stop rehearsal completely. Then there was an incident involving Nair in shampoo meant for Gio only for one of our female extras to borrow it at precisely the wrong time… you can imagine, I'm sure, that this is starting to affect my actors' performances. Everyone is on edge all the time, I've had several members of my cast just up and quit-- including that extra, I should add-- citing the fact that they felt unsafe in the theatre at all… frankly, at this point I'm expecting the lawsuits to start hitting me any minute. And that's the good outcome! The bad outcome sees Gio dead on the stage opening night! Both of our careers over in one single blow." He takes another deep, labored breath. "This theatre is my life's work, my pride and joy. It would be an unimaginable loss."

Nancy slowly nods. "So, I take it that this is where I come in?"

"This is where you come in. Because I have exhausted all other options available to me. I asked Gio if he wanted to quit, and he said no, so I offered him a generous severance package, and he turned it down. And I certainly can't fire him for this-- not that I want to; he's… the best actor I've worked with in _years_ , and I've worked with countless actors-- but then I know for certain I'd have a lawsuit just waiting for me at the backdoor."

 _… the best actor I've worked with in_ years _, and I've worked with countless actors..._

She tries not to think about Grigor and fails. She absently takes note of the dull ache in her chest, the way her heart seems to hurt almost palpably and then brushes it aside.

"Do you have any particular people that you currently suspect?"

The director offers a half-hearted shrug. "Anyone with access to his dressing room, certainly. And if someone were to steal a key… though I do imagine it would have to be someone here in the company, as they'd have to know everyone's schedule and their way around the theatre and backstage."

"Will it be possible for me to have free run of the place?"

His answer is immediate enough that it's noteworthy, Nancy scribbling down a note on her pad. "Oh-- by all means. I just want this taken care of as quickly as possible. I had a copy made of the master keys that you might use to get wherever you need to go. I refrained from labeling them, as I didn't want to take any chances with someone stealing them… so you might have to try your luck on some of them."

Nancy nods. "Sure, that shouldn't be a problem."

"And, Nancy… I know that I did not hire you here to be a bodyguard, but..."

"... _but_ my investigation requires me to keep a close eye on Giovanni, anyway, just in case any clues crop up that way. Don't worry, Mr. Reinhardt. I'll keep an eye on him whenever I'm not tied up somewhere else."

"I cannot tell you how much I appreciate this, Ms. Drew."

Moving to stand, Nancy shakes his hand with a smile. "I'm just happy to help, Mr. Reinhardt."

"Why don't you meet Gio first? His dressing room is the first one on the left just down the hall."

 

 

&

 

 

 _Gio_ turns out not to be in his dressing room, Nancy deciding to instead use this time to get the lay of the land. Quickly managing to locate the janitor's office, she decides to… _borrow_ the map of the theatre she finds there, mentally checking off entrances and exits as she spots them.

It turns out to be a fortuitous turn of events, Nancy discovering the instruction manual on how to operate the sound and light board in the control booth, several actors already on stage rehearsing. It doesn't seem like a formal rehearsal, at any rate, and she has a brief, shudder-inducing flashback to her run-in with Brady, who made it _pre_ -tty clear that he was-- "wrongfully"-- cast as something other than the male lead; in this case, Romeo. So then, whom does he play?

Leaving the light booth, "borrowed" instruction manuals and all, she sets out to explore the ticket booth to take a look at the promotional materials stacked there. But where she'd been hoping to find a program with a rundown of the cast and their self-written biographies-- practically a cheat sheet for any detective!-- she just finds the same posters, albeit, with a longer cast list at the bottom, Nancy taking a moment to find Brady's name.

 

The Bellevue Theatre is proud to present…

_**Romeo and Juliet!**  _

Featuring Giovanni Stagliano and Annie Nesbitt as Romeo and Juliet, Charles Wood as Mercutio, Benjamin Price as Tybalt, Aaron Rivera as Benvolio, Brady Armstrong as Friar Lawrence, Edith Townsend as Juliet's Nurse, Brandon James as Count Paris, Jeffrey Lewis as Capulet, Lynne Webb as Rosaline, Alan Phillips as Prince Escalus, Lydia Burns as Lady Capulet, Roy Baker as Montague, and Sarah Hughes as Lady Montague. 

 

Friar Lawrence. _Ouch_. That _had_ to hurt. No wonder Brady was annoyed at the casting.

Brady aside, however, this was still likely to make for valuable information if she was going to be meeting the whole cast sooner rather than later. The more informed she could get about the cast, the better. In that sense, perhaps it was a good thing that she already knew Brady. He'd be the one predictable element in the puzzle-- and, as a result, right at the top of her suspect list.

 

 

&

 

 

She ends up meeting Benjamin Price, Sarah Hughes, and Alan Phillips before making her way back to Giovanni's dressing room, Sarah having assured her that he'd likely be back by now.

So she knocks, the door opening shortly thereafter.

"Ye-- _oh_ \--"  

Nancy can feel her eyes widen. Can feel her feet taking a slow step back. That knowledge, however, feels distant and vague, as though her body is moving itself on autopilot in the face of such an unexpected development.

She's not generally the type to lose her sense of reality on account of, frankly, anything-- she doesn't shock easily, she's damn-near impossible to scare (she's long stopped getting invites to go to any haunted houses in River Heights with her friends)-- and yet, here they are, Nancy momentarily speechless through her incredulity.

" _Wow_ ," he whispers, the sound seeming to free her voice, if only for the moment.

" _You_." It's her turn to whisper. His turn to explain.

At least a dozen possibilities with varying degrees of possibility have run through her head in the last few seconds, Nancy rapidly trying to catalogue them as necessary.

Not a twin he didn't know about, or another family member lost to him, or even a stranger that just really happened to look like him, not when the look on his face spells nothing but recognition.

She recalls the posters in the lobby-- _of course she does_ \-- the knowledge that he's been here, in Chicago, working here, at the theatre, for at least five months now registering with her more slowly than it might have under normal circumstances.

Because she doesn't want it to be true.

Because if it's true… then he has a _lot_ of explaining to do.

"I--"

He's cut off by a woman's voice from behind him, Nancy desperately trying to squash the jealousy suddenly rising in her like the tide on the night of a full moon. After all, she could be the female lead acting opposite him in the play, or one of the other actors. Maybe they were running lines. Maybe she's just a frie--

"What's going on, baby?"

Nancy feels her blood run cold, Grigor closing his eyes as he takes a long moment to slowly inhale and exhale before finally straightening and opening the door, taking a few slow steps back, his gaze still ceaselesslyfixed on her.

"Nothing, just… an old friend making an unexpected visit."

She's pretty sure he knows, judging from her reaction alone, that she did not know that he was Giovanni Stagliano. That she did not come here for fun, expecting to find him, catch up, and hang out like old times.

She's also pretty sure that he knows not only what happened to bring her here-- he was, after all, being targeted, not that she really wants to think about that, the sudden prospect of _Grigor dying_ rushing over her like ice-- but also just how hot the water that he's currently finding himself in is.

Nancy follows Grigor's lead, takes a deep breath, tries to calm the panic she's never really had to deal with before now, and puts on her best showface as she steps into the room to hold her hand out with a smile.

 _Fuck_. She's pretty. Nancy shakes her hand in spite of this, and hates herself a little bit for not really wanting to.

"Hi, I'm Nancy. I... do hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Nancy would have had to have been blind to miss the knowing glance that seems to pass between Mystery Girl and Grigor, but then she smiles at Nancy and shakes her hand as though nothing had happened.

Not clammy. Not too loose. Not too firm. Her skin is smooth, her wrist dainty and elegant, her fingers manicured, and Nancy hates herself.

"Oh, no, not at all. We were just having lunch together." A beat. Nancy has to focus most-- if not all-- of her energy on not clenching her jaw too painfully tightly. "I'm Annie. I play Juliet in our show."

And the part of Grigor's girlfriend, it would seem. It only figures that she'd be the lead. From what he told her, after all, he seems to have a _pattern_. One that she very neatly did _not_ fit into. She can't help but wonder what that says about her.

"It's so nice to meet you." It isn't. "How do you know Grigor?"

Nancy's not sure whether that slip-up was intentional or not. Or if she's happy about it, for that matter. Judging from the way Grigor presently seems to be stiffening even more so than he already had been… she can't be all that upset about it, Annie cocking her head in obvious confusion. He more than likely knows that he deserves the hot water he's finding himself in right now.

"Grigor? You mean Gio?"

"Oh, uh-- yeah. Just an… old nickname I had for him back when we were… _friends_."

Entire _novels_ are going unspoken between the two of them, Annie, meanwhile, blissfully unaware as both Nancy and Grigor seem to be struggling to continue acting as innocuous as possible.

Nancy struggles a bit harder when Annie doesn't even flinch at that newfound knowledge.

"That's sweet!" She sounds genuine. Nancy hates that. "We met on set-- at the last theatre we both worked at. And the chemistry was just right, so… we figured there was no reason to keep going."

She doesn't specify whether that's in regard to their acting together or their _relationship_ , and Nancy isn't entirely sure she even wants to know.

"Uh, Annie-- could you give me a moment with Nancy? I'd quite like to catch up… and then I'm sure she's also here to talk shop, so."

"Of course, sweetie. I'll be in the auditorium if you're looking for me later."

It's like a trainwreck, Nancy desperately, hopelessly torn between wanting to watch so she might get a solid read on their relationship-- and the prospect of Annie as a viable suspect, something that's looking increasingly appealing-- and wanting to avoid the sight at all costs, fairly certain that the image of it will be burned into her memory forever.

So she settles for a happy middle, watching from out of the corner of her eye as Annie leans in to deliver a parting kiss to his lips only for Grigor to return it.

They both wait quite patiently until the door closes behind her before letting the emotional maelstrom hit in its entirety.

"Nancy, look--"

"What the hell was _that_?!" Despite her voice lingering at a near-whisper, she might as well have been bellowing at him.

"Can I-- can I at least explain myself? Please?" He takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You _promised_ me that you'd tell me when you got out. This is _not_ how I wanted to find out about this-- and certainly not with-- with--"

With another woman in the picture. Nancy already hates her by default not only for dating Grigor, but for all her earnesty and innocence to boot. Annie actually seems like a genuinely good human being. She _hates_ that.

"Look, I know, all right? I know about all of that, believe me."

"And don't even get me started on _Giovanni Stagliano_. If I--" There's a very deep, long, labored breath that Grigor is wise not to interrupt. "If I had known that it was _you_ , I would have _never_ agreed to take the case. And certainly not under these circumstances."

The circumstances wherein he has a girlfriend.

 _You have a boyfriend,_ the voice in the back of her head reminds her, and for a moment Nancy realizes that she'd forgotten.

"I… hate to bring this up," no she doesn't, "but I'm _pretty_ sure we went over that whole _withholding information_ thing _last time_."

From the look on his face, Grigor's already been anticipating everything she's been saying. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't be sure whether to find that endearing or infuriating.

In this instance, it's just infuriating.

"Can I take you out for coffee? _Please_?" He looks almost impossibly tired in that moment, far older than she remembers him, and Nancy feels something inside of her break.

"I suppose."

 

 

&

 

 

Their coffee orders are still the same, which is just about the only still-familiar comfort she feels like she can cling to in his wake. The coffee shop is typically fairly busy, and Nancy can't help but wonder if he brought her here only so that he might avoid her yelling at him.

It's a fair assumption and a decent enough solution. She might even have considered it to be as such if the rest of her judgment wasn't clouded over by a waist-deep layer of annoyance.

"So… tell me about her."

Grigor almost winces at the question before just shaking his head. "There isn't much to tell you don't already know. Her name is Annie Nesbitt, she's thirty-four years old, about to turn thirty-five, she's… an actress, and that's how I met her in the last show I was in."

"And where was that?"

"St. Louis."

"Ah." _Lovely_. Nancy takes a passive-aggressive sip of coffee.

"Look, I know why you're upset, and it's reasonable, but you don't know the whole story, and I need you to know that my intention was never to... exclude you, or to… cut you out in any way. I just… I had a decision to make, and it wasn't an easy decision to come to, but it was for the best."

"And how is that?"

"Because it meant you wouldn't get hurt because of me."

Nancy almost _guffaws_ , a short laugh of indignance leaving her instead as she stares at him in complete disbelief. Behind her, another rush of people enters the coffee shop, bringing with them a cold gust of air from the outside that seems to sink under her skin and into her bones.

"Well, you certainly didn't end up managing that one."

"Nancy..."

"I don't know if you recall whom you're talking to here, but I don't need protecting. I can take care of myself perfectly well. Which also just so happens to be why I feel like I should have been involved in the decision-making process here _before_ you slammed down the gavel and decided that you knew what was best for me."

"Look… what you have to understand is that this..." He sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose again for a long moment. Tired and weary like this, his age shows, just the little hints of it that would normally be covered by his youthful features and demeanor. Soft crow's feet and laugh lines, the occasional gray hair, and worry lines. She feels like she's missed out on whole decades of his life, somehow. "It wasn't just done to protect you. I had to think about myself, too."

Nancy stares at him for a long moment after that. It's a fair point that she obstinately refuses to acknowledge and doesn't want to think about.

"Why did you stop writing?"

It's the only question that _really_ matters-- aside from, perhaps, _so, when are you and your girlfriend breaking up, exactly?_

"Because you stopped replying."

It feels like a punch in the gut. It's a punch she can't help but think she might actually deserve. Not that that's easy for her to acknowledge-- that this is her fault, too. But it is. She was busy with cases. With friends. With her new business.

She was scared.

It's not so unreasonable a thing to imagine that he might have been scared, too, and she can feel some of her anger dissolve even as she desperately tries to reach out and grab some of it to drag back to her in the sole interest of self-defense.

But she can't.

 

 

&

 

 

That night, Nancy tries to think of everything in her power to rationalize her way out of this.

First, it's the case. Maybe she can quit. Of course, that thought is quickly followed by a memory of the desperation she witnessed in the director's office… as well as the fact that she already agreed to take the case. And then… then there's the fact that it's Grigor's life at stake here.

… _then again_ , she's hardly qualified to handle such an emotionally involving case. Even doctors don't operate on their family members.

Except that she isn't a doctor. She's a detective, and one that is more than qualified to take on the case. Not to mention that she's dealt with emotionally heavy cases before-- Maya's kidnapping, getting herself proven innocent, Deirdre's friend being accused of witchcraft, solving the mystery behind her mother's death…

This is no different, save for the fact that it involves not her life, her friends, or her family's safety… but her heart.

Ned's picture on her bookshelf seems to stare at her with no small amount of condemnation, Nancy pushing the thought promptly out of her mind. She's on a case now, so no matter what sort of personal connections she's dealing with, they're going to need to be, if not addressed directly, then at least considered from top to bottom, no stone unturned.

It would not do if she were to become emotionally compromised when the case demanded her full attention. She'd need to be prepared.

So… perhaps the name of the game has to be emotional detachment.

Maybe it just wasn't meant to be between them. If it was, wouldn't it already have happened by now? She's known him for eight years. Maybe if it was meant to be, she would have made the time to write back. Would have been less scared to do it in the first place. Or maybe he would have kept writing in spite of her reticence. Maybe he would have told her when he got out, would have been willing to take a chance on them even if it meant putting her in danger, as he so kindly put it. Maybe he wouldn't have been with someone else when she finally found him again.

Maybe there's a reason for all the hurdles.

Picking up her phone, she presses _3_ for her speed dial and waits for her to pick up.

"Hey, Bess. Is now a bad time? … no, no, not about anything specific. Just wanted to call to chat."

 

 

&

 

 

By the time she finds herself back at the theatre the following day, she's got a pad full of notes and a "borrowed" script to keep for herself. She gets the finer details about each incident from Grigor as clinically as humanly possible (she eased up on that a bit once she started reminding herself of Mason Quinto), and then makes her way around the theatre to drill the rest of the cast for information.

It's what inevitably leads her into the auditorium where a number of the actors are rehearsing. It's a dress rehearsal, as she knows they're all likely to be from this point forward with only two weeks until opening night, Nancy moving to sit in the audience to watch.

The gentleman playing Lord Capulet is already in mid-performance when she starts watching, Nancy doing her best to flip to the page of the script where they would likely be in their rehearsal. Truth be told, it only makes sense for her to be here to watch this, Grigor already on stage. After all, she's supposed to be keeping an eye on him, and, in the process, getting to observe all of the suspects in play, as well.

"It's act one, scene five," the actor in front of her-- Brandon, she absently reminds herself-- whispers over his shoulder with a smile, Nancy offering her thanks in exchange before flipping to the correct page as Grigor steps forward, though lingering still at stage left, Annie at stage right.

" _What lady is that, which doth enrich the hand of yonder knight?_ "

Vaguely, Nancy remembers one of the rehearsals back in Greece-- one in which she'd thought to herself that he would make an astonishingly good Shakespearean actor.

Now she's getting to see just how right she was.

" _I know not, sir._ "

" _Oh, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!_ " Flipping the page to confirm her suspicion as Grigor's gaze is undoubtedly fixed on Annie, Nancy feels herself start to pale. Oh _hell_ no. " _Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I never saw true beauty till this night._ "

She knows this scene. She's read Shakespeare, of course-- school provided her with a solid foundation of knowledge on _Macbeth, Hamlet, A Midsummer Night's Dream, Much Ado About Nothing, The Tempest_ ,… and of course _Romeo and Juliet_.

So she knows this scene, can remember it all too well from when her ninth grade class was forced to aid their understanding of the material by acting it out in front of the rest of their classmates, with the students all taking turns to fill a wide array of the roles.

She remembers this scene particularly well because Bess had been desperately hopeful to get to perform Juliet's part opposite her then-crush for this very scene, only for George to end up assigned to the role instead. Bess had been upset about it for weeks on after.

She's slowly starting to understand just how Bess must have felt back then.

The conversation between Lord Capulet and Tybalt passes entirely too quickly, Nancy swallowing hard as she shifts in her seat. Perhaps she could… pretend she needs to use the ladies' room, slip out for a few minutes so that she might return after this nightmare scene has passed.

But then Grigor seems to notice her in the audience, and Nancy realizes that there is no way she can leave now without sending an extremely clear-- _too_ clear-- message.

" _If I profane with my unworthiest hand_ ," he starts, reaching for Annie's hand as Nancy feels her jaw start to tighten, memories of him taking her hand for the first time rushing over her like a nice, pleasant ice bath, "this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss."

They _better not_. She knows she's just kidding herself, but all the same, she can't help but wish that the… pre-opening night rehearsals don't involve any unnecessary contact.

" _Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this; for saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss._ "

She wishes she could just… sink down and let the floor swallow her whole.

" _Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?_ "

" _Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer._ "

" _Oh, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;_ " please _don't_ , Nancy's mind is quick to add, the voice in her head downright bitter, " _they pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair._ "

" _Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake._ "

" _Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take. Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is_ _purged._ "

Nancy watches-- almost as though experiencing it in agonizing slow motion-- as Grigor takes her face in his hands and leans in to kiss her.

And not just a simple, soft peck-- no. That would have been _far_ too kind to her.

" _... then have my lips the sin that they have took._ "

" _Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again!_ "

And again. Why she has to watch this happen _twice_ is beyond her. Screw what's in the script. There's just no need for all this PDA. The director, the actors, hell, even the _janitors_ likely know by now that they are more than capable of kissing effectively enough.

For a brief moment, she wonders if he's doing this _on purpose_ to make her jealous. In which case… well, she can't exactly say he's not accomplishing his goal. This is like _torture_.

" _You kiss by the book._ "

Oh, no kidding. Nancy remembers it all too well.

" _Madam, your mother craves a word with you._ "

Oh _thank god_.

" _What is her mother?_ "

" _Marry, bachelor, her mother is the lady of the house, and a good lady, and wise and virtuous. I nursed her daughter, that you talked withal; I tell you, he that can lay hold of her shall have the chinks._ "

" _Is she a Capulet? Oh, dear account! My life is my foe’s debt._ "

Grigor's bits of dialogue aside, Nancy stops paying attention, her mind straying back to what she just witnessed, if only because she can't seem to get her mind off of it regardless of how hard she tries.

" _Away, begone; the sport is at the best._ "

" _Ay, so I fear; the more is my unr_ \-- ah, _fuck_!"

Immediately, Grigor's voice combined with the sickening crack from the stage makes Nancy's gaze skyrockets back up to the stage, her eyes wide.

"What the _fuck_ is this?! How did _no one_ notice this?! Fuck-- I guess I'm going to have to talk to Reinhardt to get someone to check that the boards under my spikes aren't going to collapse out from under me!"

He seems genuinely angry, which Nancy can understand in the general sense, but what's far more troubling for her is that she actually let herself get distracted from the case at all because of Grigor's rather obvious attempts to taunt her.

He just knows how to push her buttons. That's all.

As the other actors seem to take the interruption as an opportunity to take a break from rehearsing, Nancy makes her way onto the stage to see what exactly happened and to inspect the floor boards-- both those surrounding the spike he was meant to move to and the ones beneath.

All of the nails removed from one of the slats. No wonder he lost his balance and started to feel himself slipping. She has to agree with Grigor on this one-- she has no idea how someone could have missed this while applying the gaffing tape where the spikes ought to be. Unless it was covered up particularly well…

One thing is for certain-- there is no way it could have happened unintentionally.

Making her way back to the director's office, she can just barely make out the conversation going on inside, Nancy hovering for a moment before softly knocking and entering, the chatter dying fairly quickly upon her entrance.  

"Sorry to interrupt… I was just wondering if you could tell me who in the crew is responsible for marking the spikes on stage."

The director tenses for a few seconds before quickly nodding, Nancy able to feel Grigor's eyes on her all too well even as she vehemently ignores his presence. Self-defense.  

"Yes, of course. That would most likely have been Brian in this instance. You… don't suspect that he could have caused the incident, do you?"

"I'm just trying to figure out if he would expect to have noticed that the nails were missing from the board while applying the tape… and when the tape was applied so that we can figure out when exactly this was set up."

The director's relief is visible in his shoulders, the tension there seeming to relax somewhat. "Nancy, I cannot tell you how happy I am to finally have you looking into this. Maybe we can actually start preventing fires now instead of just trying to frantically put them out each time something like this happens."

"That would seem to be the idea..." Nancy nods, her gaze only seeming to… graze Grigor slightly as though as a polite formality. She's not sure if doing it doesn't hurt her even more than it does him. "Anyway, I'll leave you two to your conversation."

"Thank you, Nancy."

With the door closed behind her, Nancy takes a long moment to just take in a deep breath. Well, she can't exactly say that she hasn't had easier cases, though perhaps not for the reasons applicable this time.

 

 

&

 

 

"... I take it you're Brian?"

"I am." The man is quick to nod, moving to stand before making to hold out his hand for her to shake… and promptly withdrawing it again to wipe it on his already dirtied pants. "... sorry, common problem with bein' part of the stagecraft crew… can never shake anyone's hand unless ya want it covered in paint."

Nancy laughs. "That's okay. I'm Nancy. I'm investigating the incidents that you've been dealing with lately."

"Oh, good. I was wonderin' when Reinhardt was gonna finally get on that. Any more o' those and Gio'll end up dead."

She _really_ doesn't want to think about that, Nancy hastily trying to scrub the thought from her memory. "I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions about that."

"Oh? Yeah, o' course. By all means."

"Are you the one that generally places the spikes on stage?"

"Yea, why?"

"Were you the one that placed the latest ones on there?"

"... I am not sure I like where this is going. Yea, I was."

"Do you remember around when you applied fresh gaffing tape to the stage?"

"Earlier this morning. Why? Somethin' happen?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. Someone removed the nails from one of the slats and Gri-- uh, I mean-- _Gio_ almost sank down. It was right by one of his spikes, so I was wondering if you would have noticed something like that this morning."

"Oh, absolutely. See, I gotta crouch down to place those, and I woulda had to put my weight on those slats, so if something had been off, I woulda known about it."

"Around when would you say was it that you placed those?"

"Eh… probably around eight this morning."

"What sort of tools do you use for your work?"

"You askin' if anyone coulda easily accessed a hammer?"

Nancy nods.

"Unfortunately, yes. Not only do me and my guys sometimes keep tools lyin' around here and there, 'specially when we're in the middle of a project, but they're also jus' packed away backstage. If ya bother t' look, you'll find those _real_ easy."

"Would you say the same about, say… rope?"

"Even more so with rope, since it's a prop, too."

 _Dammit_. "All right, that's… unfortunate. But I appreciate you telling me."

"Not a problem."

 

 

&

 

 

"Bess, c-can I ask you a question?"

"... suuure. What's up?"

"Remember your c-crush on Eric in ninth grade?"

"Yes, but Nancy, what is up with your voice?"

"S-sorry. Teeth… ch-chattering... I'm standing outside the theatre."

"Nancy! Why on earth would you do that?! It is like negative a billion degrees out there!"

"I think you m-might be exaggerating there."

"Nancy, I'm not. Get inside, and then we can talk."

Nancy lets out a clearly-visible huff of air, pouts for a few seconds, and finally succumbs. "Okay, fine." But _not_ because she's cold. _Definitely_ not because of that. "I'll step into the vestibule. But then I'll have to talk more quietly."

"That's fine! I'll just turn my phone up!"

Slipping inside to between the theatre doors-- where, admittedly, it is still pretty darn chilly-- Nancy lets out another annoyed huff, just for good measure. "All right, I'm there."

"Okay, now _why_ are we talking about Eric again? That was like… a billion years ago."

"I know, I know, but… look, remember when we did _Romeo and Juliet_ in English and we had to act it out? And you _really_ wanted it to work out so that it would be you up there acting out that kiss scene with him? And then it ended up being George instead?"

"... you're bringing up a lot of deeply repressed, traumatic memories there, Nancy..."

"I know, I'm sorry… I just need to know how it felt to watch that."

"Uh, I dunno, horrible? George even _wanted_ to switch with me but couldn't without making it look insanely suspicious and like I totally wanted to be paired with him… except that that was really inconvenient because I _did_ , but also wanted it to look… coincidental, so I could be cool and casual about it… I did not expect there to be that many c's in that sentence. Anyway. If it had been some other girl in class-- well, other than you, I mean-- that would have been better, because then at least I could have hated her for getting to kiss him, but _no_ , of course I couldn't even be offered that by the universe; n _ooo_ , it had to be _George_ , of all people! Which didn't help matters at all because she was _so_ apologetic about it, too... so I just had to wallow in misery until I started crushing on Andrew."

"Yes, I remember all that." Nancy isn't sure _how_ exactly she forgot how much Bess likes to ramble, but somehow, she did. She's not sure she can feel her feet anymore. "I just wanted to know how it felt when you watched George kiss Eric."

"Ugh, Nancy, it was like a _trainwreck_ , honestly! I mean, I did _not_ want to watch that, but somehow my brain _wanted_ to see it just so it could slip deeper into its misery and self-loathing…? I mean, it did help that they were _absolutely_ not into each other. You would have thought they were gonna throw up from having to kiss. So... maybe it was a good thing that it wasn't me up there… because if that had been his reaction to kissing me, that might have been even worse. I mean, we're talking ice cream for _days_ , here. I might never have recovered."

"But… you felt jealous, right?"

"Well, I kinda _couldn't_ because it was George. And if I did I felt guilty about it."

"And… when you ended up dating Tyler, did it still… I mean, if you passed Eric in the hallway, it kind of came back to you, right? This… _pang_ in your chest?"

She'll be damned if she's going to call it an _ache_.

"No… not really." Well, that was less reassuring than she'd hoped for it to be. Then again, it's also not the answer she was hoping for. "I mean, I had Tyler. Why would I care about who Eric did or didn't kiss whenever?"

"Uh..." _Because like a really, really horrible person, even despite being happy in your own relationship, you sort of couldn't help but feel like he was your property, and shouldn't be dating anyone else…? No? Right, okay. That's… fine._

"Nancy, what's going on? Is _someone_ making you feel _pangs_?!"

"Yes-- I mean, no. _No_. _Definitely_ not. Okay, sometimes. Only a little. Actually, I… think I might just... be asking for a friend."

Oh _good god_. Well done, Drew. You really screwed the pooch on this one.

"Holy _shit_."

"Bess..."

"You _like_ someone! Someone _other than Ned_!"

" _Bess_!"

"Oh my _god_ , is it someone I know?!"

" _No_ \-- Bess--" Nancy takes in a deep breath, just leaning her head back to admire the ceiling. Oh, what has she gotten herself into…

"Then _who_?!"

"Bess, I _really_ shouldn't be talking about this here."

"Okay, so go somewhere else."

 _Persistent little minx._ Then again, it's not as though Nancy is any _less_ stubborn. Not a lot of room to talk here. She hates that.

"Look, Nancy, I'm _dying_ here. There hasn't been a quality romcom out in _months_ , and I simply _cannot_ just keep watching _Pride & Prejudice_, no matter how much I want that to be a thing I do. Because I do. Nancy, it just never gets old or stale no matter how many times I watch it! I just don't understand how it does it!"

She starts counting to ten in her head. _Deep_ breaths. Maybe this tangent will make her forget about the whole thing. Better hold onto it.

"It _is_ a good movie."

"I know! And it's _why_ you are not getting out of telling me who this is!" _Fuck_. "Because if Lizzy can find Mr. Darcy, and Ned is… I don't know, Mr. Collins…? Okay, no, that seems cruel. Anyway-- my point is that you have to tell me who this person is and why you're in love with them."

Nancy freezes. Eyes drop back to a normal level. Heart rate accelerating.

"Bess, I am _not_ in love with him!"

"Ah-ha! So we know it's a _him_... see, you're not the only one who can do some expert detective work around here… all that snooping around in New Orleans paid off..."

Nancy starts chewing on her bottom lip with such astounding ferocity that she finds herself surprised when she realizes that she somehow didn't make herself bleed in the process.

"All right, Drew, spit it out! Who is this mysterious Mr. Darcy-esque gentleman?"

Nancy closes her eyes. Realizes she has absolutely no clue how to talk about this. None of them know about Greece. Not one. That's got to be… jarring when she brings it up. Possibly even _hurtful_.

"If you won't accept the Darcy comparison, then your refusal to admit your love will force me to move onto Hercules, and you know _exactly_ what happens when I go Disney, Nancy. I _never_ _come back out_."

It might even be in her best interest not to find out at all. So maybe if she just stays silent, Bess will keep talking………..

"Nancy, I swear to god--"

"-- I didn't lose my virginity to Ned."

Oh _christ_.

The line is quiet for an alarmingly long time before Bess finally decides to cut through the silence again, the pitch of her voice just low enough for Nancy to realize precisely how jarring this knowledge _already_ is.

"… whatever I just expected you to say, that was _definitely_ not it."

She winces. "I know."

"Then again, it sure is nice to not be talking to myself anymore."

"I'm sorry." She isn't, really.

"All right, then let's not go back there… who exactly… I mean, do I know _them_?" A beat. " _Please_ don't say it's George, _please_ , I'll do _anything_ for you to say literally _anyone_ else's name--"

"Bess, _no_! Not-- _George_ , good lord. I mean, no offense to George, but she isn't exactly my type."

"Oh thank god. Okay, moving on..."

"It's not someone you know." She falls silent again, Nancy realizing just how unbelievably difficult this is to talk about. She's not sure if it would be infinitely easier or harder in person, and she doesn't exactly want to risk it and try. If it's harder, she's trapped. Bess would never let her go unless she had all the answers. No. Absolutely not.

"Uh- _huuhhhh_...??? Nancy, you're killing me here! This is worse than when we found out that George was dating someone, and she wouldn't tell us who it was because she didn't want us to know it was a girl!"

"Ugh, I'm sorry, I just-- I'm not used to this."

"Not used to what? Sharing personal details?"

Winces again. "... yes?"

"... okay, somehow that is now making sense of a lot of things… _note to self_ : Nancy doesn't know how to be vulnerable… even around her closest friends… okay, got it."

"I'm sorry! It's just that I don't generally have the occasion to talk about any this stuff. And besides, it's not like you guys ever ask!"

" _That's because you are a detective!_ Nancy, there are _always_ more interesting things to ask you about! Though you best believe that the next second that you have any free time, we are _having_ a girly, share-everything-about-our-love-and-sexy-lives sleepover, where there will be wine and honesty!"

Okay, so maybe that's fair.

Taking a glance at the lobby to make sure no one is around to listen in (the gust of warm air is nice, as brief as it is), Nancy closes the door again and takes a deep-- cold-- breath.

"Okay, well… what do you want to know?"

"Nancy, _everything_! There is nothing I don't want to know about this mystery man! When did you lose your virginity?! Where?! Does Ned know?! Does anyone, for that matter? Is this the same guy that you're now in love with?? Give me all of the deets, stat!!"

"I'm _not_ in love with him--"

"-- methinks the lady _doth_ protest too much--"

"-- but _yes_ , it's him, and it… it was eight years ago."

Nancy fully realizes that she's just become the horrible person that only responds to some of a person's questions, but then… they did talk over each other a bit, so maybe Bess won't notice…

"... but-- Nancy-- you first lost your-- I mean-- _didn't_ lose your virginity to Ned three and a half years ago! -- and _before_ you ask, I remember this _really_ clearly, because it was Graduation Day, and all of us were drinking, good times being had by all, and then the next morning, while everyone else was insanely hungover, Ned was acting _really weird_ and making everyone breakfast..."

"Mhm."

She _really_ doesn't want to be talking about this.

"Oh my god. You did it eight years ago and then still made him wait another five before letting _anything_ happen?! Nancy, that is _savage_!"

"I… thank you…?"

"I mean, _wow_ is that juicy news. Whew. Okay. Hold on, I'm starting to feel a bit warm from all of this excitement. Gonna get myself my leftover slushie from the fridge. Okay… here we go… okay now please continue to tell me just how long you've been sleeping with this other person."

"Bess, it was _just_ the one time."

"... okay, now wait a second. You only slept with this guy _once_ , but you're also in love with him now? Why didn't you just stay with him if he was important enough to give your virginity to?!"

" _Still_ not in love with the guy, and it was because I couldn't."

"Like… it was… morally wrong to keep doing it because you were with Ned…? Because Nancy, _please_ tell me you've thought about this, because as your best friend I _cannot_ let you stay with Ned Nickerson out of moral obligation when there's someone else out there that rocks your panties off of you. Like… you _do_ realize that you're allowed to break up with Ned, right? I mean, it's not like you guys are married, or something, and would have to go through a divorce fir-- _oh my god_ \-- Nancy _please_ tell me you didn't secretly marry Ned."

She can't stop herself from rolling her eyes. " _No_ , Bess, I did not marry Ned, and _yes_ , I know that I am allowed to break up with him."

"Then what gives?? Nancy, why aren't you with your Darcy, your Hercules??"

"Because right after it happened, he ended up in jail."

The silence that follows is just as telling as words would have been in its stead, Nancy just… sighing. This one isn't even wince-worthy anymore at this point.

"... in Greece," she finally adds, pinching the bridge of her nose right before realizing that it's also _very much_ something that Grigor does.

"... _Nancy_... that is even more savage than I could have _ever_ possibly imagined from you. Nancy Drew, sleeping with a criminal. I mean, I think even _Deirdre_ would be impressed."

Okay. Not the response she was expecting, but that is not necessarily a bad thing in this case. It's nice not to be judged by anyone other than yourself.

"I mean… it's complicated. He was a suspect--"

"-- oh my _god_ \--"

"-- implicated in the art theft heist I stopped from happening that year in the spring."

"This... is reaching such unprecedented heights that I could never have expected out of you...  Nancy Drew, sleeping with a suspect… thank _god_ I got my slushie earlier and that I'm sitting down… the property damage I could have caused otherwise would have been unprecedented. I mean, could you even imagine if _Brenda_ had found out about this?!"

Okay, now that's _really_ the last thing she wants to be thinking about in this instance.

"Bess..."

"... oh my god, is there _more_ like this we don't know? Are you part of a secret BDSM society?? Do you participate in orgies?? How deep does the well go, Nancy?! Where does it end?!?"

"Bess! Calm down! This is _definitely_ my only and most scandalous secret!"

"Are you sure. I mean… are you really sure… because just half an hour ago, I thought that your most scandalous secret was just that you found… some… interesting… things… on the family computer's search history…"

If it's possible, that one's _even worse_ , Nancy suddenly wide-eyed and horrified.

" _Bess_!"

"All right, all right! I'm _just_ saying, the trust jar has _definitely_ lost some marbles today… which… could be regained if I somehow happened upon all of the rest of the juicy details surrounding this Grecian mystery man. I'm… picturing… tall, dark, handsome… brooding… possibly with at least £10,000 a year to his name..."

" _Bess_..."

"... okay, okay, mentally adding prison tattoos and a toga."

"Bess, he's _not_ Greek. He's an American. And in his case, he really didn't even remotely deserve the sentence he got for his part in the heist."

"... okay, but are you saying that because it's _true_ or just because you like his _penis_ …? And please be honest with yourself here now; inquiring Besses desperately want to know."

_Patience of a saint. Patience of a saint. Patience of a saint._

"No, it's actually true, Bess. Otherwise my conscience would never have forgiven me."

"Okay, but while we're on the subject of penises..."

" _No_."

"All right, all right, I'm just sayin'... trust jar… feeling pretty empty over here..."

 _Deep_ breaths. Nancy can't remember how she got into this position in the first place. Whatever made it happen, she regrets it deeply.

"All right, _listen_. He was conned and then threatened into the position he held as part of the art heist. Problem was, another one of the people implicated in it-- incidentally, the guy threatening him-- was part of the Greek mafia--"

"Oh, I _so_ do not like where this is going."

"-- so he just managed to avoid any of the consequences that would have otherwise fallen on his shoulders under normal circumstances."

"... but those consequences had to fall on _someone_..."

"Mm," Nancy nods, adjusting her phone a bit, vaguely acknowledging the fact that her arm is starting to get tired and cold, "and because Grigor knew that another one of the people implicated as part of the heist was arguably even more innocent than he was, and had just found herself in some really hot water with said Greek mafia because of some money she owed them… he took responsibility, pled guilty to aiding and abetting, and got her sentence reduced down to community service."

"Grigor doesn't sound like a very American name… although, _wow_ , Nancy, I cannot believe you managed to find the _one_ good, selfless, kind-hearted criminal in this universe to fall in love with."

"It's not his real name." She takes in another deep breath. Talking about all of this again is… painful, as much as she wants to pretend that's not the case. "He took on his mentor's name after he died to… well, he said it was to 'keep it safe' until he could put it up on the marquee of his future theatre to give back some of the gifts he was given. His words, not mine."

"But… why… would someone give up their name in the first place? I mean, that all sounds very noble and all, but I'm quite attached to the name _Bess Marvin_ , and no matter how deeply influential Meg Cabot might have been to my life, my personality, my… everything, I don't exactly hear you calling me Meg, now do I? Couldn't he have just kept the name in his memory or on a piece of paper of some sort? A _diary_ , perhaps?"

"... Grigor-- the original Grigor, his mentor-- took him under his wing after he discovered him stealing a warm jacket from backstage at a theatre… because young orphans don't have the best time in foster care."

"... oh my _god_. You have _got_ to be kidding."

"From what he explained to me… he was moved from one foster home to another, and so he didn't really feel as though he could act like himself until he found Grigor and a stage on which to play. But… because of his background, he's also always been poor. So when a… slightly sketchy acting opportunity came up in Greece..."

"Nancy, this is _so sad_! Please tell me this story has a happy ending! I mean, I know it doesn't, but I really want there to be one! He's-- his life sounds like it came straight out of _Oliver_ _Twist_! And I don't even _like_ Dickens! In fact, I _hate_ Dickens!"

Nancy clears her throat. "I don't think either of us really intended to end up with feelings for each other. In fact, I'm pretty sure we were both fighting it every step of the way. But… I don't know, we just kept going out and before I knew it, I was in too deep. At one point he told me everything and we tried to make a run for it, but… they'd put a tracker on his car, and so… you know, next thing you know, you end up in a prison cell in the middle of Tartarus."

"No, Nancy, I _definitely_ don't know. Normal people don't just have experiences like this!"

"Well, after we escaped from there and got all the evidence we needed, we were knocked out and chained up in this fire… throne room."

"... I don't… understand… the life you lead..."

"And since things were looking _extremely_ dire at the time, well..." When she shrugs, it's more for her own benefit than for Bess'.

"Oh my god. You lost your virginity while chained up in a throne room that was _on fire_?! Nancy, I hate to say this, but your life is _weird_. I'm pretty sure that if this was _me_ we were talking about, I'd have panicked myself into an early grave by now."

"Bess, I'm sure that's not true. You can be perfectly plucky when you want to be."

"Thank you for the pity compliment, it… soothes my lack of an ego a little."

"Well, we managed to escape with the stolen art--"

"-- shocker of the _century_ \--" Nancy can practically hear Bess rolling her eyes on the other end...

"-- and get to the police. And… that's where things started to go downhill. I was very upset when I found out that he decided to take the fall, which I know was selfish of me, because he was actually being very selfless, but… there wasn't a lot I could do about it. So the last time I saw him was through the bars of that jail cell. I told him I loved him and he asked me if I would write back if he wrote me letters, and of course I said _yes_ , and then I got on a plane and came home."

There's a long silence where the realization of what she just said dawns on Nancy, who just decides to go ahead and close her eyes and wince in preparation.

"... _Nancy_! You _do_ love him! I knew it!" Yep. There it is. "And-- and you _wrote letter_ s to each other-- that is almost _painfully_ romantic-- please tell me you _did_ actually write letters back and forth. Don't let me down here now, Nancy."

"... we did for a while." Nancy switches arms, shaking out her right one as she vaguely acknowledges the lack of feeling in her fingers. Really, her hand looks more like a misshapen claw than anything else at this point… "... and then I got scared and stopped responding. And…" she swallows hard. "Eventually he stopped sending them."

"... oh my god I just realized-- Nancy, did he ever tell you he loved you?! You never said! Please say yes!"

"Bess, calm down! Yes! That's the only reason why I was even willing to lose my virginity in the middle of what every movie would be calling the climax of this story! … _no_ pun intended."

"Too late. It's already out there."

Nancy _knows_ her sigh of exasperation is more than loud enough for Bess to hear on her end.

"Anyway, so… okay. What happened? Why is this coming up now?"

"... he told me he'd let me know when he got out. But then we stopped writing, and he never told me. And... then I take on this case where the male lead has been the victim of several 'incidents' that seem pretty intent on eliminating him one way or another."

"Oh no."

"The director is in a bit of a tight spot here and begged me to take the case, so I took it, thinking, oh, this will be perfectly harmless, especially because the lead is just a guy named Giovanni Stagliano."

"Ohhhh no."

" _Well_. Turns out that he changed his name again so Kronos-- that's… the Greek mafia-- wouldn't be able to locate him again. Which… I guess makes sense. But I'm sure you can imagine my surprise when I go in to meet the guy I'm supposed to be keeping present tense…"

"Oh my god, Nancy. This has _all_ of the elements of an amazing rom-dram all over it… I just really need it to have a happy ending now, so this is the part where you tell me that you saw him, you fell into each other's arms, made sweet passionate love in his dressing room, and he asked you to marry him."

She sighs, the exhale feeling almost… _heavy_ as it leaves her. Tired. It reminds her of his face earlier that day. "Bess..."

"And that the question you asked me had absolutely _nothing_ to do with anything relating to this, and that you _just_ asked it so that you could make me… force you to… tell this story..."

"Bess..."

"Okay, fine! I know it's clearly not true! A girl can dream, can't she?!" She huffs, the pout on her face visible even over the phone. "All right, fine. I'm ready. Lay it on me."

"He has a girlfriend."

"... that _bitch_! A-- a love triangle?! Wasn't Ned's presence enough to complicate this already?! Now it's a love… quadrangle! That's even worse!"

She keeps forgetting about Ned in all of this, which is… less than ideal, all things considered.

"It's… not like that." Nancy sighs again, her gaze straying outside, the sunset peeking through the buildings and onto the snow and pavement an oddly comforting sight. It feels like it doesn't belong in this conversation, Nancy frowning for a moment. "It's more complicated than that."

"It _always_ has to be more complicated, doesn't it."

"She seems like a genuinely kind, sweet person, and they seem really happy together."

"Ohhhh _no_ , Nancy Drew. Don't you _dare_ assume even for a _minute_ that they're meant to be together! There is a _reason_ you are back in his life and it is so that he can sweep you off your feet and straight to the nearest altar!"

"Bess, I'm _pretty_ sure that if it was meant to be, it would have happened by now. And there wouldn't be so many… hurdles involved. And anyway, I have Ned, he has Annie, we both love-- our significant others, so there's no point to even consider that line of thinking."

She's not sure whom she's trying to convince more, Bess or herself.

"Introduce Ned and Annie! I mean, she sounds about as boring as store-bought white bread. They'd be perfect for each other. That way you won't feel like a homewrecker, everyone will be happy, and we can get our happily ever after."

"Bess… if he really wanted to be with me, he would have told me when he got out just like he said he would. He wouldn't have come back here, met her over a year ago, started going out with her, and never told me he was even back stateside." She shakes her head, rolling her eyes at _herself_ for even considering it. "He's moved on, I've moved on, and everything is exactly as it should be."

"Neither of you has moved on! If you've moved on, then _what_ were all those questions about me crushing on Eric in ninth grade? You even mentioned jealousy!

"What I was going through was just… watching my first with someone else. It was on stage, it was realistic, and I had a temporary pang of jealousy, but that was _it_."

"... wait… why were they kissing on stage at all? What are they putting on?"

There is a very long pause.

"Nancy?"

"... Shakespeare's... Romeo and Juliet."

"... sooooo, as someone _obviously_ still in love with their first, you must be _dying inside_."

The emotional-- _unreasonable_ \-- voice in the back of her mind agrees, and Nancy angrily shoves it elsewhere. "Of _course_ not. I just… was thrown off guard by seeing him again after so long."

"Mmmhmmmm. You should call 911 so they can help you out _because your pants are on fire_."

"Well, as much as I would _love_ to keep arguing about the fact that I am still absolutely not in love with him anymore, I should get back inside. There's some more investigating I want to do before they lock up for the night."

"Ugh! Okay, _fine_. But this conversation is _not_ over, Ms. Drew! You call me or text me again the second you have absolutely _any_ new information."

"Don't worry, I will."

"Good, because if you don't, I will TP your apartment! I am _not_ even joking! I have a spare key! It will happen if you don't keep me updated!"

"Jesus, Bess, _yes_ , I'll call you!" Deep breath. "I'll talk to you soon. Promise."

She hangs up before Bess can level any more threats at her, Nancy just… standing there for a long moment in the chill of the vestibule. She can't feel her fingers, hands, toes, legs or most of her face, but even so, she's not sure she really wants to go back inside the theatre to face her demons.

She loves Ned. That's probably _why_ the thought of running into Grigor again makes her so uneasy, her throat feel so tight.

… so, in a way, if she _doesn't_ go back in, isn't that practically admitting that she still has feelings for him?

Nancy doesn't even hesitate to open the door, the warm rush from the inside sending ironic chills down her spine before the heat finally sets in. She knows fully well that it might take a bit before the heat sinks all the way down into her bones, but for now, this is just a lot better than the vestibule was.

With the majority of the cast and crew seeming to have already left out back via the stage door, Nancy starts to make her way backstage, hoping to check out the setup Brian had been referring to earlier that day.

What she _doesn't_ expect to find upon her entrance into the auditorium is Grigor on stage, deeply engrossed in a personal monologue, his attention directed up toward the balcony, the stage lights illuminating him in such a way that he almost looks majestic.

" _And none but fools do wear it; cast it off. It is my lady-- oh, it is my love! Oh, that she knew she were!_ "

Trying to move as quietly as possible to seat herself in the audience, she leans back, just... listening to the proof of what she already knew back when she first met him in Greece. He's incredible when performing Shakespeare.  

" _She speaks yet she says nothing... what of that? Her eye discourses-- I will answer it! ... I am too bold… ’tis not to_ me _she speaks… two of the fairest stars in all the heaven having some business do entreat her eyes to twinkle in their spheres till they return. What if her eyes were there, they in her head?_ " He stops for a moment, closes his eyes, and offers a soft sigh, emotion seeming to come off him in waves. It makes sense, then, why he'd be better at Shakespeare. No room for campy play-- he's just left with raw talent and emotion. It's nothing short of… mesmerizing.

" _The... brightness of her cheek would_ shame _those stars as daylight doth a lamp... her eyes in heaven would through the airy region stream_ so _bright that birds would sing and think it were not night. See--? How she leans her cheek upon her hand! Oh, that I were a glove upon that hand… that I might touch that cheek!_ "

Nancy can hear herself sigh, the sound soft. Even if Bess is certainly wrong about a lot of things-- her still being in love with Grigor being right at the top of that particular list-- Nancy can't deny that when she watches him act-- _genuinely_ act-- it feels like she's a little bit enamored with that part of him… the talent, the passion…

His version of Romeo seems dangerously easy to fall in love with.

She tries not to think about that one too much.

" _She speaks! Oh-- speak_ again, _bright angel! For thou art as glorious to this night, being over my head as is a winged messenger of heaven unto the white-upturned wondering eyes of mortals that fall back to gaze on him when he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds and sails upon the bosom of the air._ "

With the monologue having come to an end, Nancy decides this to be the best time to rise from her seat and applaud with a coy smile, Grigor's eyes widening as his gaze quickly finds Nancy in the crowd.

Surprise-- not just at the noise, the presence of someone else in an auditorium he had previously believed to be empty, but also at the sight of _her_ in particular-- quickly turns into relief and... what she thinks might be joy.

"I… guess this is what I get after sneaking up on you so many times back in Greece, huh?"

Nancy's smile widens as she steps out from the row to make her way toward the stage, slowly nodding. "Mm, yes. I should say so."

Before she even has so much as a chance to round the stage to go up the stairs, he offers her his hands, Nancy unable to help but remember when he pulled her up onto the ledge to sit and watch the sunset with him while eating ice cream.

So she reaches up and takes his hands, Grigor lifting her up effortlessly even despite the stage aligning with just about the top of her head. It's impressive.

Of course, it also means that when he does set her down, they're… close, Nancy moving to take a step back on instinct only for Grigor's arms to reach out and stop her, keeping her close. For a split second, she thinks he just wants her this close… maybe even wants to kiss her, her heart rate speeding up somewhat-- no, a _lot_ \-- at the thought.

"Careful. Wouldn't want to fall off the stage and break a leg."

It's a pun-- Grigor diffusing with humor once more, Nancy notes absently-- but he's also still fairly close to her, cocking his head with a small smile before he… slowly does take a step backward and lets go of her.

The distinct thought running through her head-- that maybe she would have actually wanted at least the possibility of him kissing her there-- is quickly squashed and stowed as far away as possible from the forefront of her mind.

At the same time… this does feel a great deal like what they had back in Greece… before things started taking a distinctly more serious turn between them, Nancy watching as Grigor moves to lean against the back of the stage's piano, arms and ankles crossed in front of him.

"So… want to tell me what today was about?"

"Someone took the nails out of the board likely intending for you to… yes?"

She stops when he starts shaking his head.

"Not what I'm talking about."

There's a beat, Nancy throwing him a small smile.

"I know."

She remembers a time when that was his line, not hers, the two of them overlooking Gonnoi from the best spot in town. But that feels like several lifetimes ago.

"You've grown up a lot."

Nancy slowly nods. She has, it's true. "Have you?"

Grigor actually laughs at that, his head falling back as Nancy's insides seem to light up at the sound. It has the unfortunate side-effect of making her feel sick to her stomach all at the same time. It's a strange sensation that she promptly attempts to ignore.

"Not _totally_ sure I should be the judge of that… but I'd _like_ to think so."

"You've certainly grown as an actor."

"Have I? Glad to hear it."

"Mmhmm. And it turns out one of my previous assumptions _was_ correct."

"Oh? And how's that?"

"Back in Greece, watching you on stage, I thought to myself that you'd make be _pre_ -tty good actor of Shakespeare."

"I'll take that as a compliment of _both_ my past self _and_ this one."

"Good. You should."

"Under normal circumstances, seeing as you _did_ interrupt my rehearsal, I'd ask you to run lines with me, but… somehow, I feel like that might be inappropriate in this case."

"Oh?" She knows she's never been a particularly good liar, but then again, she's also pretty sure that Grigor would have known her feigning indifference either way in this instance. "How so?"

"Well, it _is_ the balcony scene."

" _Oh_ , so what you're saying is that you're not a good enough actor to distance yourself from the character…"

The gratification she feels at the sight of his jaw actually dropping is far too immense to be entirely innocent, but she doesn't care either way, Nancy grinning at him with a small shrug.

"All right, all right. Get your ass up on that balcony if you're so eager to start throwing around wild accusations that are _blatantly untrue_."

"Prove it," she shoots back with a smile, making her way across the stage to climb up into the set.

"That's what I'm saying! Here, you can take my script up there with you. Help me practice."

She has to admit, the set makes for an impressive construction. It almost feels realistic.

"Okay… where do we start?"

"Exactly where I left off! Let's see…" He mutters the lines under his breath, mostly to himself to get back into the swing of the memorization, Nancy moving to lean on the windowsill as she watches him. "...unto the white-upturned wondering eyes of mortals that fall back to gaze on him when he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds… _and sails upon the bosom of the air!_ "

Oh, right. Her line. Nancy glances down at the script to find the spot.

"You know, you're going to have to be a bit faster than that with your responses for this to work..."

Nancy feels herself flush, pressing her lips together in annoyed, embarrassed irritation.

" _Oh Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou, Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name… or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I’ll no longer be a Capulet!_ "

" _Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?_ " He says it as an aside, but for a moment Nancy thinks he's actually asking until she realizes it's definitely his line. Okay.

" _... 'tis but thy name that is my enemy… thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What’s Montague? It is nor hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face-- nor any other part belonging to a man_." … wow, she really missed out on the sexual connotations in this back in ninth grade. " _Oh, be some other name! … what’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet-- so Grigor would, were he not Grigor called, retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title. Grigor, doff thy name! And for that name-- which is no part of thee-- take all myself!_ "

The comparison inherent is not lost on her, Nancy forcing herself not to interrupt his concentration as she considers the fact that she had to catch herself several times today to keep from saying _Grigor_ instead of _Giovanni_.

" _I take thee at thy word!_ " Momentarily lost in her own thoughts and unfocused on the script, Nancy didn't expect him to address her directly, her eyes genuinely wide for a moment as she sees him drop to one knee, his hand reached out to her. " _Call me but love, and I’ll be new baptized! Henceforth, I never will be Romeo!_ "

Oh, Bess would have a _field day_ with this……….

" _What man art thou that thus... b_ -bescreened _…? in night so stumblest on my counsel?_ "

" _By a name I know not how to tell thee who I am-- my name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, because it is an enemy to thee… had I it written, I would tear the word._ "

Nancy bites her tongue for a long moment.

"And would that name be _Giovanni_ or _Grigor_ , exactly?"

For a moment, she sees Grigor inhale _sharply_ at her surprising, and yet not entirely unexpected deviance from the script. "... _neither_ , fair saint, if _either_ thee dislike."

 _Oh_. So that's how they're going to play this, then? Nancy quickly reads her line in advance, a smile playing on her face as Grigor cocks a curious brow.

"And… how is it that you ended up in Chicago, exactly, and why? You knew that I'd be here, and if your girlfriend happened to find out what we both know, you'd _surely_ die."

This is dangerous. She's starting to remember why she fell for him in the first place.

"With _love_ ’s light wings did I overperch these walls… for stony jail cells cannot hold love out... and what love can do that dares love attempt… therefore _my girlfriend_ is no stop to me."

"If she does find out about this, she'll murder you…"

"Alack... there lies more peril in thine eye than in twenty of her... look thou but sweet, and I am proof against their enmity."

He looks too earnest, Nancy swallowing for a moment as she suddenly averts her gaze. "I… don't know that we should play anymore."

"Who says we were playing?"

Nancy suddenly can't help but be grateful for the distance afforded to her by the set.

"Grigor..."

"All right. But you _did_ start it."

" _I_ was just testing to see if you could still remember your line if I changed mine..."

"Uh-huh… _sure_ you did."

Yeah, she knows it's bullshit, too, Nancy sighing as she climbs back down and off the set. Setting her foot back onto the solidity of the stage feels like a wake-up call-- a return to reality. She's not sure she likes it.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

It's as quiet as it is unexpected, Nancy's eyes widening for a moment as she stares at him.

"I had my reasons, but... those really don't change anything. I still hurt both of us, and for that, I'm sorry."

"... what do you mean, _both_ of us?"

"Exactly what I said." He shrugs noncommittally, taking his script back from her.

"That's very vague."

"Do you have a safe way of getting home tonight?"

"Grigor..."

"Well, do you?"

"If I say yes, will you tell me what you meant?"

"I already told you. I wasn't playing." He shrugs again, starting to slowly back down from the stage-- backwards-- as Nancy stares, genuinely taken aback for a long moment. "You going to be safe?"

"Yeah, I'm taking a cab."

"Good. Glad to hear it."

"Grigor--"

" _Goodnight_..."

She watches him turn to leave, slowly feeling as though she might as well be growing roots on her spot on stage, suddenly torn between desperately wanting to call Bess to pick apart every single word of whatever the hell just happened and desperately wanting to forget it ever did.

 

 

&

 

 

She doesn't call Bess.

She thinks about it-- and whatever the hell just happened back there-- the entire time she's getting her gloves, hat, scarf, and overcoat back on. Then as she's hailing a cab. Considers it while in the cab, and again as she ascends the elevator up to her sixth story apartment.

Continues to do so as she's slowly unwrapping herself, noticing in the process that she's got a voicemail waiting for her.

Okay, so maybe all of her friends think she's old-fashioned for still having a landline. She doesn't really care. It certainly makes receiving and listening to voicemails convenient, Nancy pressing the button to play the message as she peels off her gloves.

"You have…  _one_ … new voice message!" -- _beep!_ \-- "Hi Nancy, Arthur Reinhardt here. It totally escaped me, honestly, because I have another obligation that's going to keep me from going that night, but it's my understanding that the cast and crew are having a get-together of some sort on Tuesday evening at seven. I honestly would have forgotten if Annie-- that's our Juliet-- hadn't come in to remind me to tell you earlier that day. She said she would have called you herself, but she clearly didn't have your number, and I didn't feel comfortable just giving it out… anyway, I'm rambling. She said the place is at… hold on, I wrote it down… now where is that note I wrote… ah! Washington and South Wells. She said it's right outside of the Washington/Wells metro stop, basically impossible to miss. Apartment 13C. So… obviously no pressure if you can't or don't want to go, but I just thought I'd let you know. And-- who knows, you might be able to make some headway on the case while you're there, too… you know, _vino, veritas_... and all that. Anyway, that's all-- hope you have a good rest of your night and thanks again for all your help."

_Great._

 

 

&

 

 

Tuesday evening, true to form, Nancy finds herself at Washington and Wells, a flute of champagne in her hand, her body hugged beautifully by her one and only _risque_  little black dress-- a present from Bess a few Christmases ago with the instruction to wear it out for a titillating date night with Ned.

That did not end up happening, and at the time Nancy had been convinced that the present had been more or less a pointless expenditure on Bess' part, the dress hanging in the back of her closet for several years as Nancy debated back and forth the merits of donating it versus hanging onto it just in case.

Now, here, she can't help but feel that she made the right choice.

Nancy herself has never been… _particularly_ well-endowed in the chest area, but she's always been more than happy with her C-cups.

Tonight, they're proving a wonderful boon to her choice of dress.

Though fairly covered up in the front with the lone exception of her bare arms, the dress is almost completely backless, dipping down at the center to make for an almost... elongated heart-shaped visual. With her hair up, she _knows_ she looks striking, something she tells herself has absolutely nothing to do with Grigor, even if Bess would have more than a few words to contribute to the contrary.

For Nancy, meanwhile, the intent she sees in her choice of dress is largely therapeutic. If resentment and bitterness could be measured on a numbered scale, then her walk from the metro stop to the apartment building, from the lobby to the elevator, and from the elevator to the apartment-- one she could only assume had to be Annie's-- would have seen a constant and steady increase along the way only to max out when she discovered it to be not only Annie's apartment… but Grigor's as well.

The fact that it's in a prime location, a beautiful building, a gorgeous lobby, and a stunning apartment with marble countertops and floor-to-ceiling windows doesn't help even one iota.

She's been talking to Aaron Rivera-- Benvolio-- amidst the occasional sip of champagne, but she hasn't been hearing a thing he's said, her mind fixated on nothing but Grigor, Annie, this apartment, this _entire life_ , which all feels increasingly mismatched the more champagne she seems to imbibe.

Excusing herself from the conversation to get another flute, Nancy tells herself-- no, _reminds_ herself-- of the fact that she only feels this way because he was her first time, her first love, and that she's clearly just being a selfish bitch by trying to keep him from being happy the way he clearly seems to be here.

Still, the thought doesn't stop her from whipping around to look the second someone taps her on the shoulder in the hopes that it might be Grigor.

It isn't.

It's _Brady_.

"Can I just say… that you are _the_ most beautiful woman I've ever seen? And I mean-- I'm not saying that lightly, either. I get to hang out with a _lot_ of attractive women. I get to kiss all sorts of them on set, and--"

"-- Brady, I'm… really sorry to interrupt," _no she isn't_ , "but I don't really care about how I… compare to any other women in your life."

"That's my point! You don't! You stand so far above everyone else that I don't understand how men aren't throwing themselves at your feet!"

_Isn't that basically what you're doing?_

"Brady… look… I don't know if there's a way to say this nicely, so I'm just going to be upfront with you. You were a money-grubbing, sleazy, corrupt, intolerable _soft egg_ of a man a decade ago, and since then, exactly nothing has changed except that your hairline's receded a little further." (It hasn't, but he doesn't need to know that.)

Brady gasps-- genuinely gasps-- as though actually affronted, one hand moving to his chest-- perhaps to keep his heart beating through the shock and pain of her words?-- the other to his hairline.

"But-- I've been taking measures! _All_ kinds-- Nancy-- if there was _anything_ I could do--"

"-- there _isn't_ \--"

"-- I would do it in a _heartbeat_ , because… and it genuinely _pains_ me to say this…"

"... really don't have to say it..."

"... to be quite frank with you, ever since I met you, you're the only woman I've _ever_ wanted to be with."

 _Oh christ_. This cannot possibly be happening.

"Let me guess… because I'm the only woman you never could get?"

"Wha-- no! Of course not!"

"Oh, so what you're saying is that no other woman wants you, either?"

" _No_! Just that you're so impossibly beautiful, intelligent, witty..."

"-- Brady," Nancy hears a third, female voice cut in, her eyes widening before she feels her stomach tense up uncomfortably, "is there any chance I could steal Nancy away from you for a few moments? I've been meaning to talk to her about her investigation, but I keep forgetting..."

"Oh, uh." A beat. "Yes. Of course you can… I'm... hardly a _selfish_ man."

" _May_ ," Nancy nods, inclining her head _just_ so as to make her disdain known, not that she thinks that is necessarily achieved with Brady here.

"What?"

"It's 'of course you _may_ '," she nods again, turning to start her swift departure into the kitchen.

"I _love_ you," she hears from behind her, and promptly winces. A part of her can't help but feel like he'd be the sort of man who would enjoy being… urinated upon. Sexually. Maybe if she stops berating and shaming him, he'd leave her alone...

Either way, she's really not sure what on earth she did to deserve this night, Nancy leaning back against one of the kitchen counters with some relief.

"Thank you..." it physically pains her to say this… "for… rescuing me from that."

"Oh, it's no problem," Annie laughs with a bright grin, opening the oven to pull out something that smells too delicious to likely be legal. "I've been in that position _so_ many times, and I always desperately wanted there to be someone to rescue me, so… I figured that it was only fair that I help out."

The nicer she is, the more Nancy hates her.

Right now, her hatred is so monumental that it's difficult to even describe.

"What are you making?"

"What, this?" Nancy nods. "Oh, it's just roasted fennel-and-prosciutto flatbread. I... know it sounds complicated, but it's honestly really easy to throw together…"

Nancy's hatred knows no bounds.

"So… how long have you and Grigor known each other?"

"Gri-- oh, right, you mean Gio! I asked him about that after you guys talked, and-- you honestly should have seen him! He got _so_ flustered."

 _Shocker_.

"Anyway, I guess we've known each other about… oh, one-and-a-half years by now." She squints as if trying hard to remember. "Maybe a _bit_ longer. Sure _feels_ longer than that… and shorter, too." She smiles up at Nancy, who wants to die.

"... how long have you guys had this place? I mean, it's a _really_ nice apartment..."

"Isn't it?" Annie grins, moving around Nancy to take something out of the freezer-- something she promptly recognizes as _pizza rolls_. So not only can this girl cook home-made meals like it's a piece of cake, but she's also realistic about what sort of food people might want to pig out on on occasion. _Fantastic_. "We've had it for about… oh, I'd say four months now… when we came up here we just moved straight in here, you know? No point in living separately if we were going to be together anyway. Plus it means we get to share rent, which is _such_ a relief. It's crazy expensive for a one-bedroom, of course, but that's Chicago for ya."

Nancy wants to _die_.

"You know," she continues, Nancy's stomach in undeniable knots as she takes a slow sip from her glass, "Gio told me all about you guys, actually, how you go way back."

Even as she pales, Nancy isn't entirely sure if she should consider this a good or a bad thing.

"............... what did he say?"

It's not like Nancy to be reticent about questions-- or the answers she expects-- whatsoever, but… these are rather special circumstances, after all. Surely _anyone_ would act like this in her shoes.

"Oh, just how good of friends you two were once upon a time… like, a lifetime ago, I think he said. Must have made an impression, at any rate, considering how fondly he seemed to speak of you."

"I'm… happy to hear it."

There's a long silence in which Nancy does nothing but keep sipping at her champagne like she's somehow glued to the glass, and only drinking all of it could free her from her alcoholic confines.

"So…" she already knows she's going to regret the question, even before she says it, "I guess you two are pretty serious then...? With the… apartment, and all..."

With the pizza rolls in the oven, Annie wipes her hands on a towel and sets a timer before turning to Nancy with a grin, her voice dropping a few octaves, just a bit quieter than before. "It's… serious. And… you know, just between us gals..." leaning into her, she switches to a near-whisper, Nancy's stomach slowly starting to turn to mince-meat, "I think he's going to propose soon."

" _Oh_." Nancy promptly downs the rest of her champagne before turning back to the counter to refill it.

"I know, right! I mean, he's officially past his mid-thirties now. That's when guys start seriously thinking about commitment. And, you know, when it feels right..."

"Oh, sure."

Nancy is starting to feel like she genuinely might throw up at this point even as she keeps pouring champagne down her gullet.

"Would you excuse me? I think I might need to use the ladies room..."

"Second door on the right down that hallway!"

It's a mistake, even just temporarily tilting her head up to pour more champagne down her throat while she keeps walking, Nancy coming back down only to promptly collide with Grigor, his hands moving out to steady her by her arms.

Well, this sure feels familiar.

"Restroom," she explains, her voice quiet as she refuses to look at him. In her heels, if she looks straight ahead, she can't help but catch sight of his lips and… she really can't let herself do that this inebriated.

"You all right?"

"Mhm."

He doesn't believe her. She doesn't believe herself. But then, she isn't even sure she wants him to believe her.

"Okay… but if you change your mind... you know where to find me."

 _Only all too well_ , Nancy feeling his hands rotate them in place to switch their positions before his hands leave her and he starts to slowly make his way back to the living room... but backwards, his steps slow and deliberate as he keeps his gaze trained on hers... at least for now.

It reminds her of that night on stage, which is just about the last thing she needs to be reminded of right now.

"Though… just so you know…" he continues, their mutual attention still somehow fixed on each other, "that's a _dangerous_ thing for a woman as beautiful as you to be wearing on a night like this."

With that, he finally turns around to walk back out, Nancy left to stare after him in momentary disbelief.

It might just be the wine, his words… or the fact that he's going to evidently be proposing soon… the fact that his soon-to-be fiancée is clearly perfect for him, sweet and pretty and actually near him in age, not to mention an actor like him, someone he can relate to far better than he ever could with her…

But she's starting to think Bess might be right.

Which is just about the last thing she wants to be the case.

 

 

&

 

 

"How is it that you're always outside and _cold_ when you call me?!"

"Because-- ugh-- I'm not ready to leave yet and I needed a place to go to where no one would hear me? And-- I mean-- it's fine. I stole a blanket. I need to investigate around here more. So far I've found out that she's _definitely_ on birth control… and that she once had to take antibiotics for _something_. I don't know. I'm upset."

"Nancy-- are you _drunk_?!"

"Yes. No! _No_. I'm just… tipsy. Generously tipsy. It's keeping me warm."

"Where even _are you_ right now?! I thought I was supposed to get updates after that last phone call! This is it! I am TPing your apartment!"

"I know, I know… I'm… at a… cast party. For the play."

"Oh, I _love_ cast parties! Oh, wait. Right. Sorry-- do continue."

"It's at Grigor and Annie's apartment."

"Oh-- _ohhhhh nooooooo_."

"And… Bess, she's perfect for him, and they're _clearly_ happy together, and obviously after all he's been through, he deserves someone that can relate to him as an… actress, someone that's his age…"

"He _also_ deserves someone he's _actually_ in love with!!!!"

"Bess, he's clearly in love with her. They moved in here first thing when they got to Chicago,"

"-- doesn't mean anything, but do go on--"

"... they've been together over one-and-a-half years,"

"-- you've been with Ned for a gazillion years, but continue--"

"... she's a _wonderful_ person-- I mean, Bess, I think she might actually _be_ perfect--"

"-- okay, now she's edging into _your_ territory, which I'd like to go on the record as saying I'm most definitely not okay with--"

"... and he's finally…" she sighs, letting her thumb and forefinger support the weight of her forehead, her eyes closed, "... getting the chance to settle in and live a normal, stable life, start the family he's always wanted... and he's _clearly_ happy, and if I step in now and ruin that for him, I don't think I could ever forgive myself."

"Okay, woah, woah there, detective. Let's slow down a minute. Where are you getting all this stuff from? He's only been with her for-- what did you say, one-and-a-half years? And all of this settling down was before he found you again! So none of this means anything!"

"Annie thinks he's going to propose to her soon."

Saying the words out loud, she finds, actually makes her feel ill.

"... ohhhhhh _nooooooo_. Nancy, this is horrible! Did she say why she thinks that? She hasn't found a ring, has she? _You_ haven't found a ring, right?! Nancy, tell me you haven't found a ring while snooping around their homely abode!!"

"Bess, no! No, I haven't found a ring, and yes, I was looking." Of course she was. She was telling herself she wasn't-- after all, what if Annie turned out to be the culprit? Couldn't exactly go leaving stones unturned, now could she?-- but she clearly was. "She said it's because he's… officially past his mid-thirties now, and because it 'feels right'."

The words seem to practically _drip_ disdain in Nancy's mind as she slowly leans back and looks skyward, doing her best to ignore just how cold the back of the chair feels even through her blanket as an unpleasant shiver runs through her.

"Well, that's obviously complete and total hogwash… she's probably just conjecturing. You should ask him about it and see how he reacts."

"I can't do that! Bess, I've been trying to make it very clear that I'm not interested in ruining his engage-- _agh!_ \-- his relationship!"

"But you are!"

" _Bess_!"

"What?!"

"Just because I feel like it should be me doesn't mean that it--" Hearing the screen door open behind her, Nancy's eyes widen. "I'll call you back later, okay?" She doesn't even wait to hear back and instead just ends the call, even if she can still hear her protests on the other end at a distance.

"Hey, you."

She already knows that voice even before she turns to look at him, Nancy throwing Grigor a warm smile as he moves to sit beside her.

"Hey."

"You really didn't have to hang up on your friend just because of me… she sounded pretty upset."

"She'll get over it. It's certainly not the first time I've hung up on someone to talk to you."

"I know, I remember. One more time and we can call it a trend."

"In that case, I'll do my best to start being on the phone more often whenever I think you're around."

"Good." He smiles, looking her up and down for a moment. "You know, I saw the back of that dress… you've gotta be just freezing your ass off."

"Oh, I am."

"Any chance you might let me take you back inside…?"

Nancy laughs, shaking her head. "I've kind of been enjoying the night sky… and besides. It's not that often anymore that I actually get to have you to myself anymore."

The smile he offers her is weak, but genuine.

"I know. I'm sorry about that." He glances back inside for a moment, sighing softly. "I do wish it could be different."

She's not even gonna _touch_ that one.

"... Annie seems nice."

He actually smiles at that, slowly nodding. "Yeah. She is. She actually reminds me a lot of you."

Nancy has to physically bite down on her tongue to keep from saying anything at that-- or worse, make some kind of small, helpless, pathetic noise. Taking a deep breath, she regains her sense of stability… mostly, anyway…

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he nods, smiling at her before he gets up. "Come on. 'Bout time we get you warm again."

She's not entirely sure it's possible anymore.

 

 

&

 

 

"Nancy, _no_! I refuse to go through this with you again! Not when we were absolutely on the same page about this just yesterday! We were _so close_! Just admit you love him, already! Ideally, to him!"

"It was _just_ the wine, and I'm _fine_ , Bess. I'm not in love with him. I've got Ned, and he's got Annie, and I'm just happy for him that he gets to have..." _someone just like me without actually wanting me_ "... a real family now."

"I _know_ that voice, and I know that you are so deep in denial that you are swimming with the elephants in Egypt!"

"Crocodiles, Bess. There are no elephants in Egypt."

"Whatever! It doesn't matter! What _does_ matter is that you deserve the chance to be happy just as much as she does!"

"I am perfectly happy. I have my friends, my family, my job… Ned..."

"As flattered as I am to be at the top of that list, Nance, judging  from what you've told me so far, Ned is like _store-brand_ compared to this guy. And besides. Your significant other is supposed to be _first_ on that list. Not me and George."

"I don't deserve to take their happiness away, Bess. I _know_ you seem to think that I am somehow more deserving of this than she is, but I _promise_ you, I'm not. And..." Nancy pulls back from where she's rifling through props backstage to take in a deep breath. "If I was, he'd have already picked me. I didn't write him because I got scared, and so I missed my chance. So I think it's about time that I start to think about what I _do_ have and stop thinking about what I don't." _It hurts too much to think about_.

"Nancy, no!"

"Bess, I gotta go."

Hanging up the phone, she closes her eyes for a long moment, takes a deep breath, and decides to get back to work already.

At the very least, her intent to focus on nothing but work seems to finally yield something, Nancy lifting up the small bottle she's seen them use during rehearsals before. She could have sworn there wasn't supposed to be any liquid in it, but the weight… the sound…

Grabbing it, Nancy heads back to Grigor's dressing room, deliberately forgoing the director's office considering his tendency to panic.

Knocking softly, Nancy opens the door, not bothering to wait for a response.

It's… a mistake, Nancy getting to catch a glimpse of Annie _definitely_ sitting on Grigor's lap. If she had waited, Grigor probably would be looking less flustered right about now and would have just asked her to move before beckoning Nancy in, but _nooo_ , she just _had_ to barge right in…

Between the three of them, Annie seems to be just about the only one that _isn't_ flustered, evidently ignorant of the unspoken exchange that passes between Grigor and Nancy in the span of just a few seconds. He almost looks apologetic, and she can't help but be happy about that, even if it's a definitive reminder of the fact that she's a terrible, selfish human being.

"Um… sorry to interrupt; this could be nothing, but… I just remembered that little bottle you drink poison from at the end being… empty."

"Uh-huh… whyyyy…?"

"Oh good, glad I remembered that correctly." She holds it up for him to see with a soft shrug. "Definitely not empty."

" _What_?"

Annie is out of his lap in an instant as Grigor gets up to come over to her to take the bottle, opening it to take a soft whiff.

"And something tells me this isn't going to be water."

"Yeah, no shit. We… should probably… definitely go to the police with this. I mean, I'm not checking to see if this is water."

"That's comforting. Here, I'll let Reinhardt know and he can handle that end of things."

"Yeah, good plan."

As concerned as he looks-- and rightfully so, the space between his brows noticeably creased from worry alone-- she can't help but notice that he's looking at her like _that_ again, like he's in love with her, Nancy swallowing hard as she quickly turns away, not wanting to dwell on that even just for a second.

 

 

&

 

 

She gets to watch them rehearse while Reinhardt panics and heads to the station, the lack of a director leading to a good part of the cast just messing around, Nancy watching absently from the last row, quietly taking note of cast interactions.

"You're starting to remind me of me," she hears from her left, the seat squeaking as it readily receives his weight, Nancy smiling to herself even as she keeps her attention focused on the stage.

"And here I thought I reminded you of your girlfriend."

"No, _she_ reminds me of _you_. The good parts, anyway. You're still a better leading lady."

Nancy can't stop herself from laughing. "Oh, _sure_. Pretty sure you've seen me lie before. It's basically impossible to miss."

"Nah, you just manage to pull me into character more."

"I thought you said you weren't playing."

"I did."

She doesn't even want to unpack that one beyond what's on the surface, if only because he's more or less saying that he doesn't have to pretend with her. She doesn't want to think about that. Definitely not.

"You _do_ realize that you more or less saved my life today, right?"

"More. And yes. I believe that's the second time that's happened."

Grigor laughs. "Am I allowed to rack up a tab in this particular establishment?"

"It's only my job to keep you alive. So… no. Because you don't owe me anything."

"I owe you a lot more than just that."

Nancy shrugs. "I owed you a lot of letters in return. So let's just call it even."

"Nancy..." She can feel his fingers just grazing hers on the armrest between them, her heartbeat suddenly accelerating beyond what should reasonably be allowed. "You didn't… I mean… you didn't stop. Did you?"

"Stop what?"

In an instance, his hand is gone from hers, and it's as though the moment never transpired between them at all.

"Nothing. Nevermind."

 

 

&

 

 

It isn't until later in the cab ride home that Nancy calls to tell Bess about it, her stomach in knots and her hands shaking as she wonders if it wasn't just her imagination, something she wanted to see there but wasn't.

She picks up on the second ring.

"Hey, so you'll never believe what I _think_ just happened."

"Oh? What happened?"

Nancy freezes. Swallows hard.

"... sorry, I've just been so caught up in this case that I apparently forgot to say hello..."

 _Fuuuuuuuuuuuuckkkkkkkkkkkk_.

On the other end, she can hear Ned laugh, Nancy pressing her lips together as she runs her hand over her face. Fantastic. She called Ned. What a mistake to make at a time like this. "Oh, hey, that's okay… I'm pretty used to it by now… how is my amazing detective girlfriend?"

Nancy tries to laugh as casually as possible. It feels forced. She's not sure Ned notices. "Oh, you know… busy. Took on this new case at this theatre… the Bellevue..."

Her gaze is momentarily fixed out the window, Nancy just watching the scenery go by as she wonders how the fuck she got even deeper into this mess.

"Oh? Tell me about it."

Okay, so not only is she a selfish, horrible human being, but also an absolutely terrible girlfriend, to boot.

"The… male lead has been getting threats, and there've been incidents..."

Well, as long as she's on the right page with herself...

"Sounds like pretty standard fare for you. You getting close to catching the person behind it?"

"No, actually," which she knows isn't like her. But she's been… distracted. It's unprofessional.

She considers the last time she acted unprofessionally because of him, mentally reviewing just how well that ended for the two of them.

"... but what I was calling to tell you about in the first place was that I did stop the male lead from getting poisoned today…!"

"Ha, all right, Nancy! Way to go! That does sound just like something you'd manage to do."

Ohhhh how she hates herself right now.

"Anything else you want to catch me up on about the case? The… suspects involved?"

"I really would absolutely love to, Ned, but I actually gotta dash… but I'll call you soon, okay?"

"Of course! Let me know when you're free next and we'll schedule a date. Maybe a night out on the town, or a night in with a good rental and some popcorn..."

"Yeah, that sounds great."

"Awesome. I'll talk to you soon, okay? I love you."

"... I love you, too."

The cab lurches to a stop in front of her building much the same way her heart and stomach seem to, Nancy closing her eyes as she just… tries desperately hard not to think about what just happened. Pulling some cash out of her purse, she hands it to the driver before getting out, careful to actually press _two_ this time instead of _three_ as she fights to ignore the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, stepping past the doorman and into her building.

 _Guilt_.

That's what that feeling is.

"Yyyyello!"

"... hi Bess."

"Oh no. Ohhhhhh no. What happened?"

"Um… cringe-dot-com? Cringe city?"

"... go on."

"I was trying to call you… and I called Ned by mistake."

There's a long bit of silence as Nancy waits for the elevator to arrive.

"Bess?"

"Yes, yes, still here. Um-- wow. Okay. You... didn't happen to say anything particularly incriminating... did you?"

"No, and what I did say I managed to cover up pretty well."

"Dammit!"

" _Bess_!"

"Okay, yes, sorry, sorry, trying to go back to best friend mode where I'm _not_ totally rooting for you two to break up… I just need you to know how difficult that is to do right now, Nancy."

"I know. I'm sorry." Stepping into the elevator, Nancy takes in a deep breath. "I saved him from being poisoned today."

"Wha-- _Ned_?! Why-- oh-- wait, no. That doesn't make any sense. Grigor. Right. You saved Grigor from being poisoned. Okay. That makes a _lot_ more sense. Did he thank you properly by breaking up with his harlot of a girlfriend and then making sweet passionate love to you in his dressing room?"

"Bess, _no_!"

"I'm just saying, that would have been a scenario _very_ hard to explain away to Ned, and I was _going_ to be impressed with you, but you just _had_ to go and ruin it."

"Hold on a second--"

Getting her keys out of her purse, Nancy fumbles with them for a moment before getting her door unlocked. Closing it behind her, she sets the phone down and changes it on speakerphone before starting to unwrap herself from her wintry layers

"Okay-- I know how much you hate it, but I gotta have you on speaker for just a second while I get changed."

"Urghhh, Nancy, this is unfair! You are making me choose between listening to my own voice and getting to keep talking about boys with you, or not talking about boys with you! I _never_ get to talk boys with you!"

"Then I guess you'll just have to tolerate your own voice for just a liiiittle more."

"Ugh, fine. God, but-- Nancy, you haven't told Ned, have you? I mean how did that conversation even _go_?"

Nancy hangs up her trenchcoat in the coat closet, just… shaking her head.

"Not… great? I mean, I basically agreed to go on a date with him again soon."

"Nancy! How could you do this to Grigor?!"

Rolling her eyes, Nancy tugs off her boots and finally takes the phone off speaker. "Grigor is living with his girlfriend, Bess. I sincerely doubt he'd care about Ned."

"... wait a minute… Nancy, does he _not_ know about Ned?!"

"Of _course_ not. There's no point to him knowing because _nothing_ is going to happen between us."

"Ugh, Nancy, you are impossible! And you have _too many secrets_ right now!"

Grabbing her water bottle out from her fridge, Nancy kicks it shut with a sigh before moving to curl up on her couch.

"I know. But then again... I haven't _done_ anything wrong." No, that's not right. " _We_ haven't done anything wrong. I'm pretty sure it's just been some innocent flirting on his part as much as on mine."

"Uh-huh, uh-huh. Nancy, I don't think even you believe that's actually true. I mean, you cannot possibly be that much in denial." A beat. "... how much haven't you told me that happened between you two?"

Nancy chews on her bottom lip.

"I don't know, most of it?"

"Nancy, go get some ice cream right now! We need to talk about this!"

"I can't!" She's not sure whether she's referring to the ice cream or the talking. It works either way, really. "I'm out."

"Ugh, see, this is the sort of thing you need a boyfriend for! A boyfriend that you love!"

"I have… Ned."

She knows what's coming long before Bess even says it, Nancy closing her eyes in anticipation.

"I _just said_ , a boyfriend that you _love_!"

She's quiet for a long moment, this time chewing on the inside of her cheek as she silently deliberates with herself. "I… love Ned."

Wow, okay, so that was definitely the least convincing thing ever said.

"Uh-huh. See, you say that, but all I am hearing is _liar, liar, pants on fire_!"

"Bess..."

"Okay, Nancy, we're going to do a little thing here... I'm going to ask you a series of questions and all _you_ have to do is answer yes or no as quickly as you possibly can, okay? I know it _sounds_ like I'm asking, but just so you know, it's not really optional."

"Yeeees, all right... I'm ready." Even if she thinks this is stupid.

"Is milk white?"

Nancy rolls her eyes. "Yes."

"Do you like fish?"

"No."

"Do you tend to eat breakfast in the morning?"

"Yes."

"Is grass green?"

"Yes."

"Do you hate your father?"

"No."

"Oh! Okay, good, phew. That's sure a relief."

"Bess!"

"Right, right, moving right along. Is ice cream cold?"

"Yes."

"Has it been raining?"

"No."

"Is it winter?"

"Yes."

"Do you love Ned?"

"No… _oh_."

The weight of her answer hangs there for a long time, just tangling in limbo, Nancy feeling her throat run dry. She knew this. Of course she knew. Admitting it to herself, however… well, that's an entirely different story.

"Oh, _wow_ … did _not_ expect it to be that easy. Or for you to answer that quickly! I mean, gosh, sure would hate to be Ned right now."

"There's really no need to rub in how awful a girlfriend I am, Bess. I _pretty_ much got it."

"Are you gonna tell him?"

"No."

"Nancy… we're not playing anymore. You don't… have to answer quickly anymore. I mean, you can really deliberate on your answer, here… think it through… for a long, _long_ time if necessary..."

"I'm not going to tell Ned." Not yet, at least.

" _Why_?!"

"Because… even if I don't love him… that doesn't mean he doesn't make me happy..."

There is a _very_ deep sigh heard from the other end of the phone.

"All right. If that's how you're going to be about this, then I think you should go on that date. And just _try_ to have sex with him and see what happens now that Grigor is in the picture."

To be fair, Bess has a point.

"All right. I guess I can do that."

"Good. Now. I want to know every single gut-wrenching romcom detail about every single thing he's said or done since all of this got started. There is _no_ detail too small. I'm talking stuff here like… even if he just _noticed_ that you entered a room, I want to know it. _Everything_."

"Aren't you being a bit extreme here?"

"I already knew you were going to say that, and no, I'm not. You've been a crappy romcom storyteller and I am getting my due recompense! And if I can tell that you're cheating me out of details, then I'm coming over there and won't let you do anything until I'm satisfied. If I have to, I'll chain you down and force-feed you ice cream."

"That… doesn't actually sound too terrible."

"... okay, so I would have been terrible at being a Spanish Inquisitor. But my point stands. That I'm squeezing every last juicy drop out of you while I eat this popcorn."

Nancy heaves a great sigh.

"... fine."

 

 

&

 

 

Telling Bess every single detail-- even on pain of being chained down and force-fed ice cream-- turns out to be a truly colossal mistake, leaving her more convinced than _ever_ that the two of them are meant to be.

Unsurprising, of course, if unintentional on Bess' part, is that the backlash effect quickly sets in on the other end of things, Nancy's mind starting to slowly build up its own walls and defenses to ward off every thought that might actually agree with Bess.

After all, Annie is a wonderful, delightful, beautiful girl his age. A thespian like him, someone who has the opportunity to both spend her days with him as they work together on the stage and then return home with him at the end of the day. She's ready for a solid commitment-- expects it, even, at this point-- and seems willing to give him the family he's yearned after for so long.  

Not to mention… well, Nancy is hardly so naive as to think that there exists any sort of viable proof of their belonging together. The only thing they have on their side is chemistry… and a complicated history. With Annie, Grigor already knows that theirs is a relationship that is sustainable in the long-term. They've already proven it, tested it, the two of them being together-- and then living together-- for long enough that they know it works. And, as much as she doesn't want to think about it, Nancy can't deny the fact that they're likely sexually compatible, as well.

All she and Grigor ever had together was one night. One night after knowing each other for, what, less than a week? They may have had letters, but it seemed that, in their case, distance had not made the heart grow fonder; it had only made it ache all the more in the longing it ultimately left them with at the end of their short adventure.

By the time she's done talking to Bess, she can't even remember why she ever thought they stood a chance together at all.

Even watching them on stage, Nancy impatiently tapping the back of her pen against her notepad, she can't bring herself to start thinking otherwise.

" _… oh, gentle Romeo, if thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully: or, if thou think’st I am too quickly won, I’ll frown and be perverse and say thee nay… so thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world…_ "

She keeps talking, Nancy rolling her eyes as she grabs her phone out of her bag to send Bess a quick text.

 

> _You should see them on stage. They seem pretty convincing._

 

Pursing her lips, Nancy lets her gaze return to the action on stage with a sigh, Annie in the selfsame spot where Nancy had been just a few days ago even as her phone buzzes atop her thigh.

" _Lady, by yonder blessed moon, I swear that tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops—_ "

" _Oh, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, that monthly changes in her circled orb, lest that thy love prove likewise variable!_ "

" _What shall I swear by?_ "

" _Do not swear at all; or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, which is the god of my idolatry, and I’ll believe thee._ "

" _If my heart’s dear love—_ "

" _Well, do not swear..._ "

Nancy resists the urge to roll her eyes, instead just glancing down at her phone, which has since buzzed twice more.

 

> _OF COURSE THEY DO!!! nancy, theyre ACTORS!! Its their JOB to be convincing!!!! >:(_
> 
>  
> 
> _Well, knowing that unfortunately doesn't make it any easier to watch Grigor down on one knee._
> 
>  

She doesn't particularly want to see Bess' protests in response, Nancy instead just dropping her phone into her handbag even as she hears it vibrate again to signal the arrival of a text. And another. And another.

" _Oh, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?_ "

Nancy suppresses a groan at the sound of it even as her phone keeps buzzing in her bag. She just needs to keep reminding herself that she's being unreasonable, that he barely even counts as an _ex_...

" _What satisfaction canst thou have to-night?_ "

" _The exchange of thy love’s faithful vow for mine._ "

"Oh, they better not," Nancy mutters in her breath even as she lets herself sink down into her seat, just leaning her head against the back of it, her gaze invariably drawn up into the rafters, a soft yawn leaving her. She still remembers the instructions he gave her eight years ago, how he chided her for messing with the fly system, and how--

_Is that a person?!_

Nancy's eyes widen as she moves to stand, promptly drawing the attention of Grigor on stage, an accomplishment that would likely have made her feel somewhat triumphant... if it wasn't for the fact that her attention was being drawn far above him.

"Grigor, _move_!"

She's not sure what would have happened if she hadn't said anything, Nancy's eyes momentarily fixed on the stagelight as she watches it come loose before starting to plummet, the sound of rapid footsteps above them telling enough in their own right.

Trying to extricate herself from the aisle, Nancy knows fully well that the stagelight will hit long before she'll get to the stage.

The only important question left is whether it'll just hit the stage… or if it'll hit Grigor.

The next sound that hits her, Nancy rapidly turning to look at the stage as she makes it out from the aisle, is a sickening crunch.

"Grigor--!"

The majority of that seems to have come from its impact upon the stage, but Grigor is nevertheless on his back and clearly out, her eyes wide as Nancy rushes up onto the stage, momentarily wishing she could push his stupid girlfriend out of the way.

But she doesn't have time for that, not with a culprit to catch, and she turns to look at Annie just long enough to get her attention-- " _call 911!_ "-- before she starts climbing up to the fly loft. If she hurries, she might still manage to cut the person off--

On the one hand, there are too many rungs on the ladder, the culprit having already had too many seconds far in advance of her, but that doesn't mean she is about to just give up, even if she knows fully well that Grigor's health is in genuine danger right now.

She can't think about that now. Not when she has a job to do, Nancy pulling herself the rest of the way up onto the catwalk and, deliberately ignoring the sight of him sprawled out on the stage, Annie hovering over him in all her stupid girlfriendly concern, setting off on a run to try and catch the culprit before he gets away.

She almost reaches the other side when she realizes the problem, Nancy grabbing for the door handle there to try and wrench it open only to find it securely locked from the other side.

 _Rats_.

With the hope of catching the culprit now long gone, Nancy turns back, finally allowing her gaze to drift back to the stage, the sound of the paramedics' arrival providing her with no small sense of relief. She does her best to suppress the sick feeling in her stomach at the thought of what could have happened if she hadn't noticed and intervened-- what might have happened already even in spite of her intervention-- and slowly heads back across the catwalk to the other side, the spot where the stagelight came loose in the first place.

For a long moment-- watching them load Grigor onto a stretcher to carry him out-- Nancy can't help but wish that it wasn't her job to investigate right now. But… the paramedics have as much a job to do as she does here, and she crouches down to inspect the location where the light had been. The cord was definitely cut, but-- from the look of it now, it was already prepped even before today, if only because part of the cut she's noticing here seems distinctly different from the final portion-- and it doesn't look as though the rest of it was just torn off halfhazardly-- that would have been impossible with the cables to cut through; after all, had the stagelight not worked earlier today, people would have noticed. That, and the culprit obviously had to make a quick getaway, at any rate, after Nancy had caught sight of them.

Sighing softly-- she'd need at least an exacto knife from her purse to cut off a portion of the cord for further inspection-- she's about to get up again when she notices a small scrap of fabric that seems to have torn from a piece of clothing.

 _Score_.

The culprit is bound to notice this soon, and she knows just how fast it means she has to act. Anyone that attempts to discard any portion of their costume, anyone that requests replacements or repairs-- she'll need to be informed as quickly as possible.

In other words, the Bellevue will have to be put on lockdown-- at least where it concerns fabric.

Hurrying back down from the fly loft as quickly as her legs will carry her in her winter boots, Nancy grabs her purse, stuffs the piece of fabric into it, and more or less races to Director Reinhardt's office.

He undoubtedly needs to be the first one to hear about this.

 

 

&

 

 

In all fairness, she expected it when she realized she'd have to tell him, but what she didn't expect was for it to take _quite_ that long for them to get their plan squared away-- not only with the staff, but the costume department, as well. The fabric itself, clearly torn from some sort of pant, does not, in and of itself, tell much of a story, seeing as it would appear to be the standard for the pants worn by the majority of the cast. But it does tell _a_ story.

With that road followed down to its inevitable conclusion-- an unfortunate dead end for the time being-- Nancy decides that she can stop to get a sample from the torn power cord later, just making her way out of the theatre as quickly as possible, stopping only briefly to grab some recovery coffee for him-- of course she remembers his coffee order, _of course_ she does-- at his favorite coffee shop-- the same one where he got her the apology coffee-- before finally rushing to the hospital, impatience seeming to carry her along as if on wings.

Even as politely as she tries to inquire as to his location at the front desk, Nancy can't help the sick, dizzying sense of simultaneous dread and excitement that cloud her judgment as she waits to hear the proverbial verdict.

Sixth floor. Room 5F. Recovery.

 _Not dead_.

The relief she feels is downright tangible, her heart seeming to soar as she-- impatiently-- waits for the elevator to just arrive already so that she might get to his room and see him again. His coffee is still hot in her hand, and she can't quite decide if she'd rather he still be asleep or already awake.

Of course, when she actually does get to his room, her heart racing as she turns the knob to open the door…

… the last thing she expects to see there is Annie, already sitting at his bedside, clearly worried but still somehow managing to smile warmly at the sight of Nancy (Nancy uncertain as to whether or not she'd manage the same in her position), his hand in hers, Grigor still fast asleep.

She's not even sure how she didn't expect it on her way here, but there it is, her own idiotic hypocrisy seeming to stare her in the face.

"... oh, hi Annie… I… I'm not sure why I didn't realize that you'd already be here with him..."

"Oh, yeah, of course. I went with the paramedics when they first came to get him. He's a bit bent out of shape, but… he'll pull through."

"Well," Nancy offers a small smile, even if she knows fully well it doesn't reach her eyes. "I'm glad he had someone here with him."

_I just feel like it should have been me._

"That's what I'm here for," she laughs softly, finally nodding to the coffee in Nancy's hand. "Did you get that one for him?"

Nancy glances down, swallowing hard as she realizes suddenly that she's still holding the coffee at all. If she weren't holding two cups, she might have tried to lie her way out of it, shamefully pretend it was hers before ducking back out, tail between her legs… but as things stand… she can't.

"Uh, yeah… just... hoping to cheer him up. I know how much he loves coffee, so… I just hope it's still warm by the time he wakes up."

"That's so sweet of you!"

No. No, it really isn't. It was a lame attempt at recreating her version of apology coffee back in Greece. On the one hand, small habits over one week can hardly be called a tradition, but-- it feels special. Felt special.

And a little bit wrong for her to be doing in the first place as a result.

"Um," she glances down at the coffee again, as though if only she stares at it long enough it might dissolve on its own, "do you think you could… not tell him it's from me? Or… that I was here?"

Annie frowns. "But… why?"

"I… I already saved his life today; I don't want him to feel bad because of my doing this." _Bullshit_. "Besides, you're his girlfriend. This should be coming from you." She sets the cup down on the small table beside her with a weak smile.

"Well, I don't know about that, but if you're really sure…"

"I am." Really, really, really sure that she isn't at all sure what to do in the face of the crumbling infrastructure that is her life.

"Okay… thank you, Nancy. You know, he's really lucky to have you as a friend."

Nancy smiles weakly at best, halfheartedly shrugging one shoulder. "I… don't know that that's necessarily true, but it's nice of you to think so."

Except that he isn't. He isn't lucky at all to have her as a friend, if only because, even if _friend_ might be the one term that they both reach for on account of it being the safest, it's certainly the least true. She was never just his friend, just as he was never hers.

At worst, he was her suspect and now is nothing but a client.

And Nancy can't allow herself to consider the best, if only because she's starting to eek into territory dangerously close to _homewrecker_.

She more or less _escapes_ the hospital-- there's no better word for it; had she been allowed to run (and had it not looked insane to Annie), she would have greatly preferred it over decisively power walking out of there.

When she grabs her phone out of her purse this time, hailing a cab as she quickly skips over all fifteen of Bess' new, unread messages, it's not to call Bess at all.

Not this time.

"Hi, Ned. I have an opening in my schedule I wasn't expecting; I know it's short notice, but is there any chance we could have our dinner date tonight?"

 

 

&

 

 

In _theory_ , Ned has always been the perfect boyfriend. She knows this, if only because she's been forced to justify their relationship on more than a few occasions over the years in conversations with Bess and George-- and Hannah and her dad. He's a startlingly easy case to make, after all.

He's always stayed true to her, even with all of her constant jet-setting away (he's always _put up with_ all of her constant jet-setting away), they've been together for over a decade now with no problems, and this whole time he's been understanding of her hesitation to settle down permanently, Nancy having placed a full stop ban on proposals several years ago already.

(Just in case.)

Ned is one of the few constants in her life. For someone as unpredictable as she is, it's nice to have someone there to come home to at the end of the day. He's reliable, he's kind, he's understanding… almost to a fault.

She's not sure if the guilt is worth living with anymore.  

She's not sure if she wasn't secretly hoping for Grigor to return even before her recent run-in with him.

And she's certainly not sure how much longer she can keep up the charade.

No one-- friends, family-- believe it any longer. Even she doesn't. The only person left is, well, Ned himself.

They (almost) never fight. The only-- few-- times that it's happened, it's only because Ned temporarily forgot his place. Those times always made her nervous.

On the one hand, she doesn't want to lose him. And if she does, she at the very least doesn't want him to have to be the one to do it.

On the other... every time it does happen, she secretly hopes he just won't call her back.

He's always fulfilled a very specific, very particular role in her life. He's her constant reminder that, no matter what happens, there will always be someone there that wants her.

Grigor's affection, meanwhile, is unpredictable, untouchable, unmoldable, and inexplicably exciting. He's always been changeable, a variable she couldn't control the way she could with Ned.

But even if she were to get into a relationship with Grigor, however serious, a part of her would still want Ned to be there, waiting in the wings, ready to come back if anything went awry.

Predictable, safe. A cushion to fall back on whenever times got tough.

It's not fair to him. She knows that.

She also knows that she has absolutely no clue why she decided to cook steak tonight. If tonight is an audition, a re-entry exam of sorts, she's practically setting him up for failure already, the framed picture of him sitting on her fireplace mantle staring at her accusingly. Even if it is his favorite-- and therefore her guilty food to make-- he also is almost impossibly noisy while he eats it. Sure, he's always been taught to eat with his mouth closed, and of course he does, polite almost to a fault, and yet, still, there's the constant _smack, smack, smack_ of his delighted chewing even through the buffer his sealed mouth would seem to represent.

Is _supposed_ to represent.  

"Nancy-- mm, I gotta give it to you-- you've really outdone yourself this time. This is delicious. I just don't know that I deserve all of this. Did I... forget a special occasion?"

Nancy feels herself flush as she cuts another bite off her steak, pairing it with some sautéed spinach atop her fork and shaking her head.

"No. No special occasion. Can't I dote on my boyfriend every once in a while?" _Shouldn't_ she?

"No, that's not it… it's just… very unlike you."

 _Ouch_.

There's a long pause before Ned adds, "you didn't… do anything, did you?"

The warmth at the back of her neck is telling; Nancy can feel herself flush a deeper shade of red as she ducks her head, quickly picking up her glass of red wine to take a long sip of it before shaking her head.

"Like what?"

"Oh, just… the only times I've ever known you to make me steak is upon request on my birthday, on other special occasions… and when you feel guilty about something. And if there isn't some holiday or anniversary I forgot, seeing as it isn't my birthday today… I'm just asking what it is."

"Mmmno." The soft noise of half-implied, half-spoken disagreement is quickly paired with another sip of wine. "Nothing like that."

"Nancy, we both know you're a terrible liar. You can tell me; I'm sure it isn't even as big a deal as you're making it out to be in your head."

Grabbing a dinner roll, Nancy presses her lips together in quiet contemplation. She can't lie, and she can't tell the truth. So perhaps she can reach for the middle ground.

"Oh, it's just… the case I'm on right now. The male lead I was telling you about… he was one of the suspects in a case I worked a few years ago."

"And?"

"And… I thought he had feelings for me back then," no, _knew_ , "and I'm not sure that's changed in all those years."

Ned laughs. "Christ, Nancy! See? Why would I even care about that? Unless you were going to tell me that you had feelings for him, too, and that you two were going to ride off into the sunset together, why would I care about that? You know I'm not the jealous type."

She's not sure that isn't at least a small part of the problem, all things considered, Nancy throwing him a pitiful smile. "I know you're not. I just..."

"Nancy, if he does anything inappropriate, just tell me, and I'll see what I can do."

Oh, now _that_ she _really_ wouldn't do. Even if the thought of Ned calling someone on his behalf to help save his girlfriend from the clutches of another man is an all-too-realistic one.

"I'm glad you're so understanding." As always.

"Of course. I'd do anything for you, you know that." _Only all too well._

Nancy sees him reach his hand out to her from across the table and takes it, trying to ignore the sick feeling in her stomach.

She's done nothing wrong. Save for what happened eight years ago, perhaps, but… well. No point in dwelling on that right now.

 

 

&

 

 

They end up watching a movie after dinner, Nancy curled into the crook of Ned's arm when she decides to try and make up for whatever the fuck it was that happened earlier that day at the hospital.

Grigor isn't her boyfriend. Has never really even been her boyfriend to begin with. But Ned is. Has always been, ever since she was so much as old enough to even consider the concept. And even with all of their flirting, Nancy is pretty sure that it hasn't stopped Grigor from having sex with _his_ significant other. So there's really no reason for her not to at least _try_ , Nancy leaning in to kiss him.

The surprise on his end is depressing, really, but he seems to accompany it with an eagerness she hasn't seen in him too often, as though, if he were to let this one moment with her go-- even if just for a moment-- she'd pull back and take the opportunity away from him again.

Then again, she's done it before, so she can't even be surprised at him for reacting this way, Ned all too eager to ignore the movie in favor of leaning into Nancy to deepen their kiss, his hand moving up to cup her breast through her blouse.

She's twenty-six now, and still does she stop him there on occasion to pull his hand away. But she doesn't this time, determined to see this at least through to… well, she isn't entirely sure anymore.

Right before calling him that afternoon, she'd told herself that she'd have sex with him tonight.

Right after, she'd thought that maybe she could get away with just doing everything else.

By the time she was making dinner, she'd figured she could probably just take care of him and find him-- and herself-- satisfied with that alone.

Just prior to his arrival, she began to have second thoughts about that, too, and then, with dinner on the table, she figured that maybe they could just keep their underwear on.

With the movie on, she convinced herself that dry-humping was perfectly satisfactory.

Now, his hand on her breast-- through bra and blouse both-- Nancy is doing her best to tell herself that she can keep going with this.

It's not like they _don't_ have sex. Sure, cases keep her busy and away from home a lot, but whenever she does have downtime between, she's all too happy to jump between the sheets with him a couple of times before she's off again.

Or, at least-- she was.

She's not totally sure what happened between the last time and this one.

(Of course, there is the fact that, even as he's easing her back onto the couch, Nancy can't stop thinking about Grigor.

And with that knowledge, it doesn't seem to be that much of a mystery, anymore.)

It's just that she doesn't want to admit it to herself. Not yet.

It's why the constant thoughts of him are irritating-- memories of Grigor's lips on hers, almost impossibly soft, so much more so than she ever would have expected from just looking at him-- Nancy finally just settling for keeping her eyes open so she might remind her subconscious that it really is Ned kissing her, and _not_ Grigor.

Or, rather-- that it should be.

Even if the touch of his lips on her neck seem to echo the same touches she remembers from eight years ago, they _aren't_.

It's _Ned_.

 _Ned_ who's slowly unbuttoning her blouse, not Grigor, his hands running over her skin like they were made to touch her, long fingers a welcome reminder of the way--

_No!_

Pushing Ned back from her, she closes her eyes, just shaking her head.

"We need to stop."

"Wha-- why?"

Even as he asks it, he moves to sit back on the couch, Nancy righting herself again as she re-buttons the two he'd undone.

"I--" She takes in a deep, labored breath. "I can't tonight. I have an early morning tomorrow at the theatre, and… after almost watching my… I mean-- _Grigor_ \-- get murdered today… I just don't know that I'm in the mood for anything. Besides, I was at the hospital earlier today, and I-- I got a headache from that alone..."

"All right, that's fine. No big deal. Is there anything I can get you? Maybe some tylenol and a bottle of water?"

Nancy sighs, smiling somewhat sadly, her gaze momentarily on her lap as she nods. "That would be nice, yes."

"Yeah, of course. Be just a second."

Nancy's eyes go from fixed to unfocused, her elbows on her knees as she tries to remember when she last thought of herself as a good person that didn't take advantage of her boyfriend's kindness and good faith.

But even her guilt can't stop her from setting his picture face down after he leaves and frantically getting herself off to thoughts of Grigor, every memory of every single touch seeming to have crept, ever-slowly, to the forefront of her mind when she was most hoping to hold them back.

When she does come, it's with a sharp cry, her fingers getting tangled into her hair even as her hips arch up toward her hand.

Even if she can't be with him, she can at least have this.

 

 

&

 

 

She hovers in the doorway to the auditorium, quietly watching as Grigor's return is received with triumphant applause from his castmates. Annie brought cake (of _course_ Annie brought cake), and while everyone else is celebrating, Nancy takes the time to start searching some of his castmates' dressing rooms.

It's something she's already done-- albeit, only superficially thus far-- and Nancy is happy to find herself finally able to actually be looking for something more... concrete.

It's not as though she expects the culprit to keep rope and itching powder in his dressing room after the incidents occurred, not unless he or she is truly phenomenally stupid. That, and-- well, the presence of the person up on the catwalk the day prior made Nancy consider the possibility of someone working with an accomplice. If not someone outside of the theatre, then perhaps a joint operation between a few of them-- two of the actors, two of the techies-- or even cast and crew together...

As far as Nancy is concerned, she just hopes it _somehow_ turns out to involve Annie.

It's stupid, unprofessional, and impossibly selfish of her-- she shouldn't be rooting for anyone in particular to be at fault in all of this; she knows. And yet, here she is, wishing there could be an easy solution to her little dilemma that didn't involve her constantly having to watch Grigor kiss her.

This time when he did it, he hadn't known that she'd been hovering in the doorway to the auditorium, and the sight itself makes for a welcome reason to make her escape, Nancy starting to slowly scrutinize-- and, in some instances, ransack-- some of the joint dressing rooms.

It's how she ends up bent over Brady Armstrong's desk, rifling through his drawers when she hears someone clear their throat behind her.

It's her job, yes, but years of going through things she shouldn't be, the way she shoots up and spins around is almost a reflex, Brady standing there, arms crossed in front of his chest, as he blinks at her.

"Kind of shameless, don't you think?"

"It's my job."

"Oh, well, in that case, let me be of assistance! Why stop at the drawer, after all, when you can just strip search me right here?"

Nancy… stares at him for a long moment, blinking almost owlishly at him, genuinely unsure if he's being sarcastic or not.

"Go on. I'm sure you'll find me _spotless_."

"That's… quite all right, Brady. But… thank you for the offer." _Not really, though._ "At any rate, I really don't have to be going through people's things while they're in the room." It's awkward. "So I'll just… let myself out." She starts for the door when his words stop her again, Nancy momentarily praying that he might not offer to undress in front of her again.

"Say, uh, Nancy… would you... like to get coffee with me sometime?"

Oh, that is _so much worse_ , Nancy slowly turning around to offer him a forced smile.

"I'm sorry, Brady… but I have a boyfriend."

Good ol' dependable Ned.

"Uh huh, I see… and does Gio know about that?"

Nancy can feel the forced smile practically melt off her face.

"What?"

"Gio-- you know, that guy you like. That guy that's been flirting with you even though _he_ has a girlfriend?"

"Brady, I'm-- sorry. I'm not sure I understand why you care about any of this. Or, frankly, why I should care about your opinion of me."

" _I_ have a vested interest in this because I have waited for over a decade now to take you out on a date. You weren't old enough back when you came to visit your friend at the Royal Palladium-- that would have looked _terrible_ in the eyes of the press-- but you are old enough now."

"And you're… what, _blackmailing_ me?"

"Just… pointing out hypocrisy where I see it. That's all. Though, you know… now that I  think about it, I think you might be right. I _don't_ think Annie has any clue that you and her boyfriend want to bone each other. That might be pertinent information for her to find out about."

"I'm... not sure I can say that I know where you're pulling all of this from. Do you have some kind of _proof_ that this is going on, or have you just gone functionally paranoid since the last time I saw you? I mean, I'm pretty sure he's been kissing her _far_ more than he has me."

"That must be hard to watch. Always forced to sit on the sidelines..."

"Look, Brady, I don't have time for this. I have a case I need to keep investigating."

Turning to get back out into the hallway, the last thing Nancy actually expects him to do is to _grab her by her forearm_ , Nancy's eyes going wide as she stares at him in utter disbelief that he would so much as dare to touch her at all.

"Nancy, I don't think you realize just how difficult I could make this investigation for you."

"Oh _really_? Because I'm pretty sure that what you just said qualifies as reason enough for me to call the police to have them take you in for questioning. You are presenting yourself as an obstruction of justice, _and_ \--" she nods down at his hand on her arm, " _that's_ assault."

He lets go of her as though burned, his face falling as he buries it in his hand.

"Ugh, you're right-- Nancy, I'm sorry, I just--" He takes in a deep breath as he straightens again. "I could have any girl I wanted out there. But I've only ever wanted _one_. And for you to keep wasting your feelings on some… _lothario_... it _hurts_ , Nancy."

"Well," Nancy grits out, biting back the urge to just leave him there, "luckily for you, we're just old friends."

"Really?"

His voice is small, unsure-- exactly the way she remembers it-- Nancy trying desperately to will herself to pity him instead of… well. Resenting him for existing.

"Really. But now I _really_ need to get back to work, Brady."

"Yeah-- yeah, of course."

Nancy-- somehow-- manages to hold back her urge to roll her eyes until she's actually made it out of his dressing room and turned a sharp corner in the process, something that ultimately results in her bumping into--

Oh, of course. Who else could it possibly have been?

"Careful," he admonishes softly, his hands on her shoulders again, Nancy swallowing hard as she decides to be the one to take a decisive step back this time, her gaze running over the bandages holding his head together.

"Sorry… just the hazards that come with eye-rolling, I suppose..."

He smiles, just glancing at Brady's dressing room door with a slow, knowing nod before turning back to her. "I was actually just looking for you."

"You were?" Ah yes, there's that telltale increase in heart rate that she's so used to by this point.

"Mm-hmm." Placing his hand on her shoulder-- Nancy suppresses a soft shiver-- he inclines his head toward his own dressing room before slowly… guiding her there, his hand not leaving her shoulder even once... at least not until they actually arrive, Grigor closing the door behind her only to lean on it, his legs crossed at his ankles in front of him.

"Annie told me you came by yesterday."

She can feel herself flush, Nancy inwardly cursing Annie even more so than usual as she ducks her head. His voice is too flat, his gaze too even for Nancy to make out how he feels about that particular fact, and seeing as she doubts that he brought her in here to thank her by telling her that he's broken up with Annie and would like to be with her instead…

"Just… trying to get information on the case." And maybe if she repeats it often enough, she'll actually start to believe it, too.

"Is that why you brought me coffee?"

Nancy feels herself freeze. If she looks at him, he'll be able to read her expression like a book. So she is adamantly looking anywhere _but_ at him.

"I... don't know what you're talking about. I'm pretty sure that was Annie that brought you coffee."

"First of all, _detective_ , the coffee _she_ had was from the hospital vending machine. If she'd gone to get me coffee, she would have gotten herself one, too. And secondly, _she_ doesn't know my coffee order."

Nancy can feel her flush deepen to the point where she's not even sure that there's a part of her left that _isn't_ red, although a significant part of that, she knows, is also the triumphant feeling in her chest over the fact that Annie doesn't know his coffee order.

"Seems like the sort of thing a girlfriend ought to know about her boyfriend."

"Maybe." _Definitely_. "What I want to know is why you didn't want me to know."

Ah. So that's why he's leaning against the door.

"Probably for the same reason that I know your coffee order while your _girlfriend_ doesn't." _Intimacy_.

"Do you really think she'd care?"

"No," Nancy shakes her head. "I thought you would."

He's quiet for a long time at that, just… staring at her as though desperately wishing to say something. And for a split second there, she thinks he actually might, only for both of their thoughts to be simultaneously cut off by a knock on the door behind him, Grigor quick to step away to let in… his girlfriend.

Of course.

"Well," Nancy eventually cuts in following the necessary amount of superficial pleasantries so as to qualify for the bare minimum, "I probably ought to get back to work."

 

 

&

 

 

She doesn't actually end up getting back to work as she likely ought to have. Instead, she grabs her coat and calls Bess from the theatre vestibule.

"Oh my god, it's _about time_!"

"Hi, Bess."

"I've been _dying_ over here! Didn't you get any of my texts?!"

"No, I got them."

"What on earth has been going on over there?!"

"Well, I just left Grigor's dressing room…"

"A promising start to a sentence…"

"... because his girlfriend showed up again."

"... with a disappointing conclusion. Nancy, you're killing me here! You're supposed to say… _Bess, I just left the dressing room belonging to the love of my life, and I'm only calling to tell you that we've been making out nonstop since I last texted you_!!"

"Bess..."

Well, at any rate, she isn't the only one that wanted that to be the outcome. But here they are.

"No! _No_! You are _not_ allowed to just give up! In the immortal words of Elizabeth Bennet-- he loves you, Jane, don't give up! I mean, it's… _Nancy_ in this case, but… you know what I mean."

A part of her isn't even sure why she bothered calling Bess in the first place. It's not as though Bess has been particularly helpful in trying to remind her that this is a fruitless endeavor and that she has a loving, naive, innocent, clueless boyfriend waiting for her on the other end of things. That would be far more supportive.

Maybe she ought to call George… she should be getting back from her conference pretty soon, anyway.

"Bess, I'm pretty sure I've made enough of a fool of myself in the last twenty-four hours to last me for a while. I really don't think encouraging more bad decisions is a good idea at this point."

"All right. Out with it. What happened?"

"A… stagelight almost fell on his head and killed him."

" _What_."

"I told him to get out of the way just in time, but he still ended up in the hospital with a concussion and a bloody head..."

"Nancy, this line of work is _too dangerous._ You really ought to consider a change in professions. I mean, at this point I would have either died from one of these 'accidents' you're always investigating, or from heart failure because of the panic your job would cause me to have!"

"Then I guess it's a good thing it's me on this end, and not you..."

"I don't think it's healthy for you, either, Nancy!"

"Some people go bungee jumping, other people go skiing… I solve mysteries." It's exciting, frequently adrenaline-filled, and always unpredictable.

All right, so... maybe she's a bit of a thrill seeker.

The only kind of thrill she wants to avoid, really, is the kind that she's been dealing with these past several days. The ones dealing with her emotions, with her heart.

"I just don't think it's a good idea for the long-term. I mean, I can't even _imagine_ the sort of health care premiums you must be paying!" There's a long groan on the other end of the line. "Urrghhhh, I _hate_ being an adult! I can't believe I just used the word _premium_ in a sentence! Nancy, quick! Keep talking to me about boys. Otherwise I may lose my sense of self."

"Okay, okay! I'll just keep telling you what happened."

"Yes, please do! But hurry! I'm already feeling myself growing weaker as my mind drifts off to thoughts of _taxes_ and _insurance_!"

Nancy doesn't quite manage to hold back her eye-roll.

"I ended up visiting him in the hospital. I got… coffee..." She can feel the back of her neck start to grow warm at the admission, even if she knows fully well that no one but her and Grigor would really understand why she'd be feeling sheepish about that at all in the first place. "For both of us on the way… which ended up being a big mistake, because when I got there, his girlfriend was already there at his bedside."

"Oh _no_!"

"So I was just going to leave, but then she asked about the coffee, and… I told her not to tell him that I stopped by or that it was from me, but… considering the conversation we just had..."

Bess gasps. "Nancy! You can't trust her! She's a _betrayer_!"

"Well, I'm… sure she meant well." That's the worst part. She's really pretty damn sure that Annie meant well. "But he evidently would have found out without her help, anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"She… apparently… doesn't… know… his coffee order."

She's not sure how she could have said it that would have ensured that Bess wouldn't read into it far more than necessary. But between saying it _very, very quickly_ and _very, very slowly_ , her apparent choice in evasive maneuver was the latter. Not… great for self-preservation.

"Nancy… do you know what this means?"

"I'm really trying not to think about it too hard, because I'm sure it doesn't mean nearly as much as you seem to think it does."

"You're right! It means _more_! Nancy, as someone who puts clues together for a living, you are absolutely hopeless when it comes to doing the same when it comes to your love life."

Nancy can't help but laugh, albeit joylessly. She's not wrong. "Tell me about it."

"I mean-- think about it! She's been with him for over a year, right? She should know his coffee order by now! Especially since I remember you telling me that he's a bit of a coffeeholic."

"Bess, the only reason _I_ know his coffee order is because he said it out loud that day in Greece."

"Yes, but you actually cared to remember it! Do you have any idea what that must mean to him?!"

She hasn't thought about it that way.

She also isn't sure that it's a particularly good idea if she does think about it that way.

"Bess," she knows it's going to hurt even before she says it, Nancy closing her eyes, "I'm pretty sure he knows by now that he could be with me if he wanted to. The fact that he hasn't acted on that in any way should speak for itself."

"Well, he's not just going to throw away his current relationship if he doesn't think that you're going to be there on the other side! His not breaking up with Annie is exactly like you not breaking up with Ned like you should have done years ago!"

" _Bess_!"

"Oh my god. He doesn't know about Ned, does he."

"Mmmmno." She clears her throat. It's quiet at best, but Bess probably heard her anyway, Nancy's cheeks aflame even in spite of the near-biting cold making her breath turn visible before her.

" _Oh my god_."

"I… I mean, it's not like it makes a difference."

"What do you _mean_ , it makes no difference?!"

"He doesn't know, and he still doesn't want to be with me. I really think that is all anyone needs to know to come to a decisive conclusion about this."

"Nancy, I really don't think so, and it's not like you to do such sloppy detective conclusion-coming-to! So I suggest you leave this one to the pros. Namely me. Bess Marvin, Relationship… Guru… Extraordinaire."

Nancy takes in a _very_ deep breath.

"The Guru's first order is for you to break up with Ned Nickerson, so that he might be spared the pain of dealing with all of this when you and Grigor inevitably get together."

"Bess, I really don't think that's a wise idea. I mean-- it seems _really_ hasty--" and she _really_ doesn't want to lose her safety net…

"Nancy! You are someone who disarms bombs for a living! Climbs into elevator shafts! I think you could stand to be single for more than two hours! I mean-- ughhhh, I can't believe I'm even having to _ask_ this, but _honestly_ , when was the last time you two… you know… played bedsheet hockey? Like, ten years ago?"

Nancy is quiet for a long moment, just chewing on the inside of her mouth.

"... I… I mean, I… tried… last night..."

" _Nancy_! How could you do such a thing to Grigor?!"

"Weren't _you_ the one that suggested it?"

"... yes. I'm just saying… that I didn't expect you to actually do it..."

"Well, then I guess you'll be happy to know that he didn't even get three buttons undone on my blouse. And besides, it's not like he'd have room to talk-- I'm sure he's sleeping with his girlfriend on a pretty regular basis!"

"He was concussed and bleeding from the head, I doubt there was enough blood left in his body for him to get a boner!"

"Not _last night_ , before then!"

… okay, so she's starting to snap, both literally and metaphorically, Nancy fighting to reel in her temper somewhat as she diverts her gaze to the ceiling.

"Look, Nancy. _All_ I'm saying is that you might want to think about your future and if you're not just staying with Ned because it's comfortable and safe and you're used to it. Think about who you want to see in that future, who you could picture down the aisle, crying and waiting to marry you, and then think if that really is Ned standing there in that mental image."

It isn't.

"Because we both know that you could get a new boyfriend in less than two seconds. I mean, you attract them like fruit flies! If you were… you know… rotting fruit."

"Thanks, Bess."

"Anytime."

"Brady actually asked me out earlier." She can't believe she's even thinking about this again.

"Brady _Armstrong_?"

"That's the one. When I told him _no_ he threatened to blackmail me."

" _Why_? No-- wait, hold on-- _how_?"

"I told him I have a boyfriend, and he saw it fit to point out that Grigor and I had been eyeing each other for long enough that he knows that's not a valid excuse, and shouldn't Grigor know about this boyfriend, and shouldn't his girlfriend know about me… and when I told him I wasn't interested in being threatened and tried to leave, he grabbed me. So I threatened to call the police. At which point he… pretty much seemed to fall apart."

"Ugh, what a slimeball! Not that I'm entirely surprised after what you told me happened at that theatre where you saved Maya."

"Yeah, me neither."

"Honestly, Nancy, I change the channel whenever that hot dog commercial he's in comes on tv… definitely do _not_ date him just to replace Ned. Don't do that. Although I really don't understand how you do it. I mean, I wish I had your magical boy entrancer powers. It would make life so much easier. I could just walk down the street whenever I was feeling lonely and wait for people to approach me and beg for my number. That's what life is like for you, right?"

"Pretty much."

"I thought so."

 

 

&

 

 

She doesn't bring up their conversation or the look he gave her before the knock on the door, if only because Nancy herself isn't sure what any of it means. All that she does know is that she wants to keep that particular part-- that look, that split second of hope-- to herself for now. Keep it safe, secret, between just the two of them.

When she later texts George to ask her simply to tell her that whatever she's thinking about, that it's a bad idea, George comes through for her, and she's grateful to hear that tiny voice of reason grow a bit bigger, even if it seems at war with the rest of her, her head and heart engaged in a seemingly endless civil war.

It's why she's been staying late-- often _avoiding_ their rehearsals lest she get to watch them make out some more-- and continuing her investigation even after hours, with only the janitor left behind in the building alongside her.

It gives her a reasonable excuse to search through people's dressing rooms… particularly Annie's dressing room.

So… maybe she's a little hell-bent on finding evidence that could incriminate her. Maybe she's trying desperately to find clues that could tell her that their relationship is falling apart at the seams.

She finds neither.

No diaries, no notes-- just a few love notes on post-its that she stuck to the mirror-- ones she's trying hard to tell herself that Annie wrote to herself... even in spite of the fact that she can recognize Grigor's handwriting.

It seems to only fuel the flame of her desperation, Nancy finding herself halfway through-- carefully-- ransacking Annie's dressing room wardrobe, cleaning up after herself bit by bit… when her conscience seems to kick in (somewhat) and she moves on to Grigor's dressing room instead, just seating herself in his chair as she calls George, the one person in her life that she can talk to about all of this-- abstractly, too-- and not end up with admonishment or encouragement. A happy middle. Sensible.

"Oh hey Nance, what's up?"

"I just…" she takes a deep breath, "need a bit of a reality check."

"Does this have to do with that weird text you sent me earlier?"

"Yes."

"Well, then it's probably still a bad idea if you want someone to tell you it is. That's basically your conscience providing you with the reality check already."

She's quiet for a long moment, just chewing thoughtfully on her bottom lip.

"Do you think I should break up with Ned?"

"... is that what you've been trying to get me to tell you is a bad idea? Because if so… I'm not sure I can agree with myself there. Not in good conscience, anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"Just that I don't think it would hurt for you two to explore some other options, that's all. You've been together for a really long time. At a certain point in the relationship you kind of should be able to decide if you want to stay with that person or not. Because if not, then it isn't fair to them to keep trying. And if yes, then there shouldn't be an issue regarding commitment. Like, there's that phrase, you know; shit or get off the pot? I kind of feel like it applies here."

"So you think that I should break up with Ned?"

"I think that you should make that decision for yourself. You're the only one that's going to know if you could see yourself marrying him or not. All Bess and I can really do is conjecture, but we can't make the decision for you. Just something you might want to consider, you know."

Nancy nods, mostly to herself, her legs pulled up onto Grigor's chair. It's… distracting. Every once in a while she'll just get a whiff of him, memories of Greece seeming to rush back to the forefront of her mind.

"What if there's… someone else?" Nancy asks, pulling open one of Grigor's drawers to start absently looking through them.

"In _Ned's_ life? Nancy, please; don't be ridiculous."

On the one hand, Nancy isn't totally sure what to say to that. But then, George isn't exactly _wrong_. She's not sure she could even imagine Ned ever cheating on her.

"... wait-- Nancy, are we talking about _you_ here?"

"... well, what if we are?"

"And you _like_ this person?"

"Mmmm… yes."

"More than Ned?"

"Doesn't matter much if they don't want to be with me."

"Well, why wouldn't they? Wait-- Nancy. This isn't… sexuality-related, is it? Because I don't know how Bess would react to finding out another one of her friends is gay."

" _No_ ," Nancy chortles, pulling another drawer open. "He's definitely a _he_. It's just that I have Ned, and he has..."

"... a girlfriend. _Right_." George is quiet for a moment as Nancy frowns, pulling a bottle of prescription pills out of a drawer to inspect it more closely. Just prescription strength ibuprofen from the looks of it, probably for his head, but…

"Still," George continues as Nancy pops the top, pouring out some of the pills. Okay, no. Just ibuprofen. "I feel like even the _potential_ of someone else might be a better idea than you staying with Ned."

Placing the bottle back into the drawer and promptly shutting it, Nancy switches ears. "That's what I'm not so sure about."

"Well, knowing just how stubborn you can be… I guess we'll just have to trust you to make the right decision. Just make sure it's the right one for you."

 

 

&

 

 

Nancy isn't sure if she wouldn't rather be having nightmares. She closes her eyes, it would seem, and there's Grigor, ready to remind her of what could have been.

Ironically, it only spurs her on to further ignore the feelings, Nancy inviting Ned over again the following night after having gotten to watch another dress rehearsal with them making out.

The unintended side effect of this is that she's been getting… snippy. Short. It's the nicest way of putting it, really. Every text from Bess encouraging her on is met with responses that are just shy of being outright vitriolic. Since their… _almost_ -conversation in his dressing room, Nancy hasn't really seen or spoken to Grigor in private whatsoever, something she's not totally comfortable admitting just yet has been largely her fault, what with her fighting to avoid him most of the day.

Of course, this also means that, as much as she tries to force thoughts of him out of her head, the thoughts only return tenfold in response like some sort of horrifying emotional hydra-- and usually when she's least expecting it. Her dreams, her mundane everyday tasks… even now, while doing dishes--

"Here, let me help," Ned comes over to her, obliging as ever, Nancy stopping dead in her tracks as she glowers at him.

"I've got it, _thanks_."

He really doesn't deserve it.

Bess doesn't deserve it.

Of course, when she sets her phone down just a _bit_ too firmly for the fifth time after responding to Bess, Ned seems to finally catch on, a frown playing on his features as he considers her somewhat curiously from his spot on the couch.

"Is… everything all right, Nance?"

"Yes; why would anything not be all right?"

"Because you're acting… _odd_."

"Just the case."

"Hmm… okay. If you say so."

She's about to launch into another snapped reply when Nancy hears the phone ring, stopping momentarily to dry off her rubber gloves and answer.

"What?"

"Hey Nance..."

"We're worried," Bess interrupts George, Nancy biting down on her tongue as she tries to contain herself as she considers the betrayal of trust that just occurred here.

"Bess… I could have sworn you were the one going on about the _trust jar_ just a few days ago."

"Nancy, you talked to her already-- I can't possibly lose marbles from the trust jar for talking to her! I had to talk to _someone_! You've been acting _impossible_!"

"What my dear cousin is trying to say, Nance… is that you're not acting like yourself. And it might really be time to break up with Ned. You're clearly..." There's a long pause, Nancy looking up to see Ned starting to put on his coat.

"Where are you going?" She lowers the phone in utter disbelief, just holding it against her chest as she stares at him, Ned's eyes going somewhat wide-- if in surprise or fear, it's genuinely hard to tell.

"... sorry, Nan, it just… doesn't seem like this is the... best time…?"

"Sit back down," Nancy sighs sharply, getting back on the phone only to step outside of her apartment and into the hallway.

"Nancy. Is _Ned_ over there right now?"

"Yes. What's your point?"

"Look, Nance… I really don't want to say this, but… it really seems like you're still in love with this other guy. And that's not really fair to Ned."

She knows. She knows all of this already. The real battle is admitting it to herself, Nancy chewing on her bottom lip for a long moment.

"Guys… I'm gonna go. I'll talk to you soon."

She hangs up before they get a chance to say anything, heading back into the apartment with a soft sigh. Ned's sitting on the couch, hands clasped between his thighs, and she can't help but feel guilty.

"Ned..."

"Listen, Nancy, before you say anything. I just… wanted to say that I'm sorry that I haven't been a more considerate boyfriend lately. I know how much pressure you've been under, and how much this case has been stressing you out. And I just want you to know that… whatever you need, whenever you need it, I'm going to be there for you from now on."

Oh god.

Nancy swallows hard, pulling off her rubber gloves and moving to sit in her armchair opposite him with a soft sigh.

"Thank you, Ned."

A part of her almost wishes that he was willing to fight with her and get angry; anything other than this sweet, accommodating, infinitely understanding nature. There's no passion there. He hardly even acts as though he deserves to be her boyfriend. Maybe if he did… this wouldn't be happening in the first place.

He's quiet for a long while until he finally speaks again, not quite yet ready to look up at Nancy.

"... Nancy, I just have to ask. And-- I won't be angry, either. I just need to know if… the reason you're having such trouble with this case is because of… who the victim of the attacks is. Grigor, I think you said his name was? I mean… was there ever anything between you two?"

She understands now, the reason for his silence, Nancy echoing it as she stares at him. Even now, she's not too shy to look at him-- that's really the main difference-- and it strikes her how different that is to how she feels around Grigor, how sheepish she gets at times, and how flustered.

"No," she finally says. "There wasn't."

 

 

&

 

 

There are quite a few things that she had been _expecting_ to discover while searching everybody's areas and dressing rooms. For Brady, it had been Bosley (he was especially unhappy for her to have found that particular item) and a whole trove of self-help books. For Annie, it had been a wide variety of nail polishes. For Grigor, it had been his tablet, alongside his almost obsessive amount of note-taking. No mention of her, though, at least not amongst the stage notes. And he rather obviously-- wisely so, really-- changed his password when it came to the personal ones.

It's annoying, not being able to get into something locked.

This, in particular, happens to include one of the locked drawers in Grigor's dressing room.

And when she does eventually find the key in _Annie's_ dressing room while the cast is in rehearsal-- Nancy scouring the place for incriminating evidence, of which she finds exactly none-- she isn't even entirely sure if she's happy about the discovery or not.

Still, she unlocks the drawer.

Pulling out a small envelope, she carefully empties its contents out onto her hand.

_Ticket stubs._

All recent. New York. St. Louis. Chicago.

It doesn't take a genius to put this one together, Nancy hastily pushing the evidence of his recent shows back inside when something else catches her eye.

On the one hand, there's a post-it with the password into his tablet, which she is quick to mentally store in her brain.

On the other, there's a mysterious manila envelope calling her name, Nancy quickly opening it to find…

Letters. Each one addressed to her. All of them unsent. 

 

> _Nancy,_
> 
> _It's been a while since I last heard from you, and I gotta tell you. Missing you while in jail might be ten times worse than missing you back in my hotel room in Greece. There isn't a lot to think about but you. Then again, I'm not sure that I'd want to_

 

"You're _unbelievable_."

Nancy's eyes widen for a moment as she quickly pushes it and the other letters back inside, not looking up at Grigor just yet, cheeks ablaze.

"You like what you found in there?"

"Sorry… just… working the case… I know that was intrusive."

"It was. I wasn't ready for you to see that stuff just yet." Wait. "Am I to assume you've already hacked your way into my tablet?"

"... no. What do you mean you weren't ready?"

"Good. I'll change the password again in that case," he says, grabbing his tablet off his desk with a marked _look_.

"You didn't answer my question."

"I _know_."

"You know, you _could_ have sent those. I would have been happy to hear from you more."

"Uh-huh. And not received replies back to me baring my heart? No thanks."

"You're unbelievable."

"You were just caught going through my most private and personal possessions, and you're telling _me_ that _I'm_ unbelievable?"

"It was for the case."

"What, do you now expect that I've been trying to poison myself?"

"It's possible."

"No, it really isn't. I'm happy. It wouldn't make sense." A beat. Nancy knows he's right. That's the worst part. "You've been avoiding me."

"No, I haven't."

"Yes, you have."

Yes. She has.

"Maybe I've just been busy with the case." Bullshit. Determined not to meet his gaze as he shuts and locks his drawer again, tablet included, Nancy frowns. "Did you take any of that ibuprofen in the last few days?"

"No. Why?"

"Because it was moved. And not by me." Grabbing it, she unscrews the top again to pour the pills out into her palm. "This isn't ibuprofen. I mean-- it's not anymore."

"... what do you mean?"

Grabbing her phone, Nancy quickly looks up the number on the back of one of the large, white pills.

"This is _not_ ibuprofen. This is a lot stronger-- it's Norco, a narcotic."

Pouring the pills back into the bottle, she shoves it into her purse.

"You're telling me that this person is now trying to put me to sleep?"

"Looks that way." Getting up, Nancy presses her lips together. They sure did a sloppy job of making sure no one would find out, though. Especially when it's her on the case. "At least… to achieve some end."

"Like what, exactly?"

"It's possible that they wanted your reaction time decreased so that you wouldn't be able to get out of the way as quickly as you did with the stagelight… or they were hoping it would put you to sleep so they could get to you another way… or they were trying to warn you."

"How so?"

"Well, either they're stupid, which is possible, or they left the bottle out on purpose instead of putting it back in the drawer where they got it from. Either way, I need to go talk to the director about this."

"... yeah, I guess you do."

 

 

&

 

 

The conversation with Reinhardt could have undeniably waited, but following her discovery of the contents of the drawer-- and his insistence on grilling her-- she's not sure how she could have managed. Why wouldn't he send the letters? Perhaps more importantly, why would he keep them? What could he have locked away in his tablet that he so badly wants to keep her out of? And what of the ticket stubs?

Undeniably, there are more questions than she has answers to now, something she's never much liked before.

Regrettably, it's Annie that ends up catching her mulling over her notes, and even if she isn't sure she would have entirely preferred it to be Grigor, she knows for certain that Annie was not on the list of people she really wanted to be interacting with after the last few days she's had.

"Hey, Nancy… you look tired. Is everything all right?"

"Oh, yeah-- I'm fine. Just… this case has been keeping me on my toes."

"So I've heard… it certainly sounds like it's been keeping you pretty busy. Anything I can do to help?"

Nancy suppresses the urge to laugh. "No… I'm afraid it's really not that kind of work."

"I understand. Listen… I don't know if this would help your investigation at all, or if you have the time to spare, but… the cast and crew are having one last party before opening night, and it feels like you've so much become part of our little family that I'd hate for you to miss it. We're holding it at the theatre tomorrow night."

Her first instinct is to simultaneously say yes and no.

Yes, she wants to keep investigating the case, wants to keep an eye on Annie and Grigor's relationship, wants to try and gather more clues-- especially considering the party's location and the dangers that Grigor could be facing that night. The theatre is a vulnerable place for him to be right now, and even if she doesn't want to go…

She's not exactly keen on getting to watch the two of them play any more tonsil hockey. She also can't exactly say that she enjoys spending more time around either her or Brady than strictly necessary. Of course, there's also the part of her that really doesn't want to accept just because the offer came from Annie in the first place. But that would be impossibly petty.

"I'll definitely be there."

Whether she'll be investigating or spending time at the cast party… that's the real question.

 

 

&

 

 

The party turns out to be a far less… _classy_ affair than the one held at their apartment, something Nancy can't help but somehow resent, as though everything Annie touches-- Grigor being the exception-- ought to be acknowledged as fundamentally evil.

Still, she went home to change, Nancy picking out a warm, weather-appropriate dress and stockings before returning to the theatre far sooner than anyone else in order to keep investigating.

In this particular case, she's doing her best to (guiltily) investigate Grigor's drawer, Nancy's lock picking kit at her side as she fumbles with it. She's persistent, her stubborn tenacity interrupted only by the ringing of her phone.

"What?"

"Well?"

"Did you go?"

"Hi guys… yes, I went home to change and I'm back at the theatre now."

"Ugh, Nancy! I feel so conflicted about this! On the one hand, the case! On the other, fraternizing with the enemy!"

"Bess, don't you think you're being a _bit_ dramatic?" George cuts in, Nancy giving a frustrated sigh as she pulls back from the lock. "Hey Nan, what's that sound?"

"Oh, that? That's nothing. Just… trying to break into a drawer."

"Annie's?"

"Brady's?"

Nancy winces. "Grigor's."

"Oh, Nan… you don't suspect him of doing all of this to himself, do you?"

"... no… just… covering all angles…"

"... Nancy," Bess cuts in this time, "are you doing this just to spy on their relationship?"

"... no?"

"Really? Because that's what I would be doing."

Sitting back in the chair with a sharp huff, Nancy pulls a face. "Okay, fine, yes, that's what I'm doing." Sort of. It's more like she's trying to spy on _their_ relationship, but… she doesn't really need to get into that right now.

"Nancy… that's so unprofessional of you."

" _Wow_ , George," Bess interrupts before Nancy can get a word in edgewise. "Nancy needs our support right now, not our _condemnation_!!"

"I know that. I just think it would be easier to support someone that can be honest with themselves about their feelings."

"But George, I _am_ being honest with my feelings. All I need is to put my mind to rest that he isn't still harboring feelings for me so that I can get closure. That's _all_."

"I don't know… it just seems awfully unethical."

"It is unethical, but this is hardly the first time I've had to do something unethical for a case."

"But this isn't even for the case--"

"-- hang on, I think I hear someone coming. Gotta go."

Hanging up on them, Nancy packs away her lock picking kit and promptly heads back out and into the auditorium.

 

 

&

 

 

Five glasses of merlot later, Nancy is feeling more than a little uninhibited, her heels starting to feel like more of a burden than a fashion statement, and when she feels a tap on her shoulder, she can't help the way her disappointment shows on her face at the sight of Brady.

"What is, Charmstrong?"

Pulling her phone out of her bag, she absently thumbs through Bess' frantic text messages.

  

> _Nancy, answer your phone!_
> 
> _Call us back this instant!!_
> 
> _If you're not going to call us OR answer your phone, at least tell us what's going on!!!_
> 
> _Are you getting these????_
> 
> _What has been happening???_
> 
>  

"Oh, it's just… you usually seem busy, and..."

"And when I didn't this time, you thought you'd waltz right in and make your move? Just give it up already, Brady. It's never going to happen."

Really, this is the perfect time to text them back.

 

> _Mostly just wine… and Brady Armstrong hitting on me >:(_
> 
>  

"You say that now, but… I think you'd change your mind if you were to find out just how well I've been doing financially."

"I don't know what I did to make you think that I was shallow enough to care about money, but whatever it was, I suggest you reconsider the facts."

She doesn't even take her gaze off her phone as Bess's text response makes her phone buzz in her hands.

  

> _Still??? Ugh!!! Do you need us to call you???_
> 
>  

She's about to respond with an emphatic _Yes!!!_ when she feels an arm link with hers, Nancy looking up with some surprise as Annie throws Brady a small smile.

"Sorry, Brady… I've been hoping to steal Nancy away for a good chat for a bit now… you don't mind, do you?"

For a long moment there, Nancy wonders if he isn't actually thinking about saying _yes_ , he would mind, but the near-lethal stare she's giving him seems to ward him off of that idea, Brady finally relenting as he waves a dismissive hand, doing his best to look... nonchalant about it all.

"No, no, of course not. Steal away..."

Nancy feels almost impossibly torn between grateful relief and unparalleled resentment as Annie leads her away with a knowing smile, Nancy offering a somewhat stilted, forced one in return that she hopes looks genuine enough. Then again… Annie has never actually seen a genuine smile from her. So it's quite possible that she might take whatever _this_ is... _as_ a genuine smile. Of course, Grigor would know better. But then again, he knows her. Possibly better than most people in her life. They frequently refuse to see the bad parts of her. He just accepts them.

"It must be awful having him constantly chasing you around everywhere, just waiting to accost you whenever he can..."

"I… do appreciate the occasional rescue, yes.  Thank you."

"Oh, it's not a problem. I know what a pest he can be."

"... did he use to do it to you?"

"At the beginning, sure. I feel like he just gravitates toward taken women."

"Ah."

She's not sure what it is, but all of a sudden Nancy finds that she doesn't even want to share _Brady's_ attention with Annie, which is a can of worms that she really isn't sure she ought to get into right now. Her friends would crucify her. Even she's kind of crucifying herself at the realization.

Could it be that Nancy only wants Grigor because he's unavailable? Is she the _female version of Brady_?

Trying to suppress a shudder, she refills her glass before downing a good amount of it.

No. No, she isn't like Brady. He was never with her to begin with. He just idealizes the-- _unavailable?_ \-- women he meets. There's nothing about Grigor she idealizes. She never has. She's always known what he is-- and was. A thief, a grifter, a criminal, a former convict… but also an orphan, a thespian, a lover, a friend seeking redemption...

The latter far outweighs the former.

"You know, Gio is really lucky to have you as a friend. I'm so glad he had someone to lean on before we met."

Well, that's certainly one way to put it.

She knows that Annie deserves him. She's a lovely person, objectively speaking, Grigor's words still haunting her.

_She actually reminds me a lot of you._

Maybe that's why she hates her. The feeling that she's an imposter, taking her place in his life when it should be her, not a cheap knockoff. Then again, the fact that Annie seems like anything _but_ a cheap knock-off doesn't help matters. It only makes her more jealous.

She might deserve him. Maybe even more than Nancy. (After all, her time on this case has taught her a lot of things about herself, truly few of them actually pleasant.)

But Annie doesn't want him more. And while their history may have seen them together longer, it isn't nearly as rich as the week she shared with him, the letters they exchanged. It _can't_ be.

The presence of more, unsent letters only adds to that argument, Nancy downing the rest of the glass of merlot, feeling more than a little pleasantly tipsy, her cheeks warm, her gait just this side of unsteady.

Okay, so maybe she's in love with Grigor.

She really hates alcohol sometimes. There's a _good reason_ for why she's been avoiding the thought.

Nancy shrugs. "I'm just as lucky to have him as a friend."

"I understand his life was quite troubled before we met. From the way he's made it sound, I can't even imagine what would have happened if he hadn't had someone there to support him."

She feels herself blanch with realization, Nancy absently refilling her glass as she tries to process this new information.

She doesn't know.

She _doesn't_ know.

Nancy almost can't believe it, her mind-- foggy at best from the wine-- reeling from the implications, more questions swirling through the thick of her thoughts than answers.

One question, however, stands supreme.

_Why wouldn't he tell her?_

Why would he not share what happened in Greece-- Nancy aside-- with his girlfriend of over a year? Is he ever planning on telling her? If so, what has he been waiting for? And why didn't he feel like he could share it with her earlier?

Most importantly-- what does it mean for his relationship? Not just with Annie, but-- her, as well.

"I know…" Nancy slowly nods, considering the liquid in her glass for a long moment as she mulls over what she's about to do. "His time in jail _was_ pretty rough on him."

She wants to regret her words, but she fundamentally doesn't, Nancy just waiting for the inevitable surprise on Annie's face.

She cannot even express the sheer gratification she feels at the way her expression seems to waver for a moment, her eyes widening as she looks to Nancy in disbelief.

"That's-- that's why..." She's floundering, Nancy taking a victorious sip from her wine. If he had wanted to avoid this, maybe he should have told her about this a bit sooner, considering how curious it seems to her that he wouldn't. "I didn't know he was in jail."

"Oh, he never told you?" It's rhetorical, Nancy not waiting for Annie to nod. "For several years back in Greece. We met right before then, so you could say that made us pretty close… I really am surprised he never told you."

"Well, I'm sure he must have had his reasons..." She doesn't look so convinced of that, though, Nancy just _barely_ suppressing the urge to smile.

"Oh, I'm sure he did."

For once-- _just this once_ \-- she has a leg up on Annie, Nancy unable to suppress the hope she feels at the thought of this actually working to fray at the edges of their relationship… even if just a little.

She can't help it. She doesn't even regret it a little.

 

 

&

 

 

The next morning, it turns out, Nancy finds that she regrets it a great, great deal. And not just because she's miserably hungover. It was a stupid, rash decision made due to unwarranted jealousy. He's not her boyfriend. It's been years since there was anything between them.

So even if she can't stop herself thinking about him, about them, about Greece, none of that matters whatsoever. She's starting to look like a person she doesn't like very much, that she doesn't wholly recognize, and compared to Annie, Nancy knows she doesn't deserve him anymore.

It matters even less when she gets to the theatre only to find the two of them sitting on the stage together, eating and seeming as delightfully chummy as ever, Grigor nearly falling back as he starts to laugh, loudly; the same sort of laugh she misses hearing herself, the sort she hasn't heard from him since she was in Greece eight years ago.

It makes her a little (a lot) jealous, but Nancy does her best to push that aside, just texting Bess with a decisive sigh upon taking her seat in the auditorium, desperately praying for this hangover to subside.

 

> _If I ever talk about him again, stop me._
> 
>  

She doesn't have a chance to read Bess' response, an all-too-familiar voice cutting through the busy chatter amongst the actors.

"You said you were hungover, so… I brought coffee for my favorite detective."

 _Ned_.

Forcing herself to shed the desperate urge to remain frozen in place-- not only in surprise, but also utter mortification-- Nancy turns to look up at Ned before moving to stand from her seat with a slightly strained smile.

"That's so sweet of you… thank you."

"Anything for my favorite detective," Ned beams, leaning in to kiss her, Nancy turning away to let the kiss fall on her cheek. "I remembered what you said, and I'm ready to be a better, more supportive boyfriend."

Great. Now she feels guilty on two fronts.

Of course, there's also the fact that she's been trying to keep Ned away from all of this, keep him hidden as surreptitiously and effectively as possible. After all, unethical as it may be, the last thing she wants is for Grigor to find out she has a boyfriend.

… which makes it all the worse when she sees Grigor approach from her right, a stiff, terse smile on his face.

"Nancy… someone I should be meeting?"

Nancy suppresses the urge to wince, swallowing hard as Grigor extends his hand in greeting, Ned eagerly accepting it to shake. "Grigor, this is Ned... Ned, this is Grigor."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Grigor. I've heard a lot about you."

"All good things, I hope… after all, there are a lot of things in my past that Nancy knows about that are less than flattering."

He throws her a _look_ , Nancy inwardly flinching, her own smile strained at best.

"Oh, nothing but good things. She speaks very highly of you. She's also been really worried about this case, so that probably represents the majority of what I've been hearing about."

"Those sound like far better conversation topics, even in spite of the current circumstances endangering my life..."

She knows they're digs at her, not that Ned does, which she's grateful for.

"So, since you've heard so much about me… might I ask how you and Nancy happen to know each other?"

Oh. Wonderful. Now he's rubbing in the fact that she didn't tell him about Ned. This just keeps getting better and better.

"Oh, we went to highschool together. Love at first sight for me. Not quite for her. Now I'm just her terrible, clingy boyfriend… but also making up for it with coffee."

"That sounds like a great start." Grigor turns to Nancy, his stare undeniably reproachful. "You should enjoy that coffee… I need to get back to work, but we'll chat later, I'm sure."

It's not a proposition. It's a fact, Nancy just slowly nodding. "I'm sure we will."

As Grigor walks away, Ned nods with a warm smile. "He seems nice. I can see why you wouldn't want him to die tragically in one of these accidents."

"Oh, right… speaking of accidents..."

"... you need to get back to work. No problem. I totally get it. I just wanted to come see my favorite person for a little while."

"Thank you, Ned." Leaning in to kiss him on the cheek, she smiles, still just as expectedly strained. "I'll talk to you soon."

 

 

&

 

 

"So," Grigor opens their conversation in his dressing room later, Nancy already able to guess where this is going. Not in an exceptionally pleasant direction. "Ned's nice."

Okay, so that's definitely worse than what she was expecting, if only because of the passive aggression contained in his words. Then again... she also kind of deserves it, Nancy staring at her shoes more than she is at him, the blunt edge of the dresser behind her digging into her ass as she leans against it.

"How long have you two been together?"

Ah. She'd been hoping to avoid questions altogether, but now that she's thinking about it… not exactly a realistic desire.

"A… while."

" _A while_ a while?"

Her stomach is in knots as Nancy finally looks up at Grigor, doing her best to look… at least somewhat imposing. It's not her place to be accusing him of anything, but...

"What exactly are you asking?"

Grigor just shrugs, his back against the door-- again, she notes-- one of his feet flat against it, arms crossed in front of his chest. This time she can read him perfectly well. He looks anything but happy.

"Just… wondering if you had him on the backburner while you were hanging out with me in Greece. Not that you thought it was worth mentioning…" He chuckles somewhat dryly, deliberately not looking at her. "And you're somehow judging me for being immoral. That's great."

She's on her toes in a heartbeat, her eyes widening as it seems to hit her all at once.

"Oh, so _that's_ what this is about?"

"You omitting the fact that you've had a boyfriend this entire time-- even while we were _sleeping together_ and writing love letters back and forth is not exactly something I'm happy with, believe me. Kind of implies that everything you ever told me could be lies." A beat. "Was I even your first?"

That one hurts more than she ever could have anticipated.

"I didn't lie. Ned's the only thing I never said anything about." Omission of information. Not lies.

"Why the _fuck_ did you tell Annie about my past?"

His voice is level, but undoubtedly hostile. He looks furious. She's never seen him like this before, not even when he was pretending that she had completely fucked his chance of ever connecting with his "angel investors" back in Greece.

"Just… trying to solve the case."

She's always been impossibly stubborn, something that extends to the way that she fights. It's been a problem for as long as she can remember. Two minutes into an argument, she'll realize that she's in the wrong-- much as she does now-- and still her pride won't let her admit it, the argument going on and on until the other person either bends or breaks. It's not something she's proud of, but that hardly makes it any less a part of her character.

She's also not good at simply admitting that she fucked up and that she's sorry, which would have been the correct answer in this instance, here.

Instead, she makes up a stupid excuse, jaw squared, lips pressed together tightly in outright defiance even as her gaze decisively avoids his own. Contradictory. She doesn't care. Deep down, she knows she's in the wrong. But the desire to _be_ right burns far brighter.

" _Oh_ , is that so? Well, then let me help you! My personal life has _nothing to do with this case_!"

She remembers this. It reminds her all too well of how angry he got back in Greece whenever she got too close to putting the pieces together, too close to his things… his personal business.

He was wrong back then, but this time, she knows he isn't.

Nancy doesn't manage to put anything together to say before Grigor decides to speak again, the vitriol seeming to have ebbed from his core with his earlier words, his expression and voice now soft, far more hurt than anything else.

"I thought you of all people wouldn't throw my time in jail around like it's this terrible secret."

His words feel like a punch to the gut, Nancy doing her best not to let it show on her face as she shakes her head, staunch, firm. She almost sounds angry, as though she has any right to. She doesn't.

"I never judged you for going to jail."

"Oh? Which is why you're gossiping about it like it's juicy, shameful news?"

"How was I supposed to know that you'd never told her about it when you've been with her _for over a year_?"

" _Oh_ \-- oh _I see_! So this is _my_ fault that you decided to divulge sensitive details about my life to my girlfriend! I'll be sure to remember that next time!"

"You're making it sound like this is entirely on me!" It is. She knows it is.

"You're a _detective_ for a living, and you're seriously telling me that you couldn't figure that one out?"

"Maybe I just assumed that in a blissfully happy long-term relationship like yours there shouldn't be any secrets to _detect_ in the first place!"

"You know what--" he grabs his shoulder bag, expression strained, "just forget about it."

He leaves before she can respond, Nancy staring at the shut door as the realization slowly washes over her that she doesn't even want to pick the lock to his drawer anymore.

Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't have cared. She would have continued her investigation and revisited the conversation at a later date.

But this… there's emotional weight to this, the likes of which she hasn't felt in a while.

She hasn't let herself.

Always guarding her feelings, always putting up walls, shutting people out--

When she grabs her things and leaves his dressing room, she reaches into her bag for her phone only to find her hand shaking.

This time, she doesn't linger in the theatre or even the vestibule; she just leaves the building entirely, lets herself be consumed by the cold as she walks back to her apartment instead of bothering to hail a cab, the shivers running over her body oddly therapeutic as she waits for the shrill dialtone on the other end to turn into--

"Nancy! Nancy, _finally_ , we've been trying to reach you for ages! What happened?!"

\-- voices.

"George, get over here, it's Nancy! Hold on-- gonna put you on-- _beep!_ speaker-- _beep!_ "

"Hi Nance. Honestly, Bess, you should just let me do it next time."

"There's no time to talk about my technological ineptitude, George! We need to help Nancy! Right, Nancy?"

She's not so sure that she can back Bess on this one, Nancy wavering as she watches each tread of her feet make imprints in the snow, packing it all the more tightly against the ground in the process.

"... not… totally sure I deserve it right now, but thanks, Bess. It's nice to have friends to rely on."

"Nancy, what are you talking about? Of course you deserve the help!"

"Yeah, Nance," George cuts in, concern seeping into her voice that only serves to make Nancy feel worse, "what's going on?"

"Is this about that text from earlier today?"

"... Ned showed up at the theatre with coffee to make me feel better since he knew I had a hangover."

"Oh. Oh no."

"Oh, that's not even remotely the worst part." Nancy sighs, trying to find a way-- any way-- to redeem herself in her own eyes as her toes slowly give way to frostbite. "I… fudged up last night. Big time."

"How bad are we talking?"

"Uh, bad enough for Nancy to drop the f-bomb, George!"

Nancy can practically _hear_ George rolling her eyes through the phone.

"Badly enough for me to send that text this morning."

"What happened?"

"You know how I needed to be bailed out when Brady wouldn't leave me alone? Well… guess who decided to get there first?"

"Oh no."

"Grigor?!"

"No, Bess... it's not like I mind _his_ company."

"It's Annie," George cuts in helpfully, Nancy sighing in confirmation.

"I was pretty drunk at this point… and so I accidentally let it slip that Grigor was an ex-con after I figured out that he hadn't told her."

" _Woah_." She's not sure if George's astonishment is more comforting than it is guilt-inducing. Maybe somewhere in between. "He really didn't tell her?"

"Nnnnope."

"Okay, but that's saying a lot about their relationship, too, Nan… I mean, it takes a lot of trust to share that kind of thing with someone. I mean… before last night, the only people at that theatre that knew about his past were the two of you."

Oh, fantastic. Now she feels even worse. Something that was theirs exclusively, and she just _had_ to go sharing it with his soon-to-be fiancée.

"But if it was an accident… he really couldn't have been that mad, could he?"

Nancy takes in a deep breath before wincing, the knuckles of her right hand starting to turn an angry shade of red from the blistering cold, her fingers slowly but surely cramping up around her phone.

"Bess… I don't think it was quite _that_ accidental… or she wouldn't be feeling this guilty. I mean, no offense, Nan, but I don't think I've ever seen you drunk enough to make unwise decisions of _that_ calibre."

"None taken. I don't know that I would have done it without the alcohol to back me up, but… even if I was jealous, that didn't give me any right to tell her. He's not my boyfriend, he's certainly never going to _be_ my boyfriend, not after what happened today--"

"Woah, woah, what happened today? Did he confront you about it?"

"He… confronted me."

"About…"

"About all of it. Ned, me running my mouth, me lying… he figured out that Ned and I have been together for a while, even… while I was in Greece, he was angry that I told Annie about his past… and I was an idiot."

"Oh, Nan…"

"At any rate, he deserves better than me. I was upset to even see him and Annie happy this morning… I don't even know what I was hoping for. For… their relationship to be falling apart, I guess? What kind of horrible person would do that?"

"Someone that's in love," Bess is quick to interject. "You _really_ ought to watch the Hallmark Channel more. I think it would be… I dunno, therapeutic for you, maybe."

"Well, if I really do love him," which is looking more and more likely, something she _really_ doesn't want to have to grapple with right now or ever, "I need to just leave him alone and let him be happy with her. He clearly is and all I'm doing-- when I'm not too busy hurting him-- is getting in the way of him getting the future he's always wanted for himself."

"... but Nancy, what if you're part of that future he's always wanted?"

"Then he makes terrible decisions."

But then again, they already knew that was the case.

 

 

&

 

 

She puts the remaining pieces together that evening after she gets to her apartment, half-frozen solid at that point, and hangs up on Bess and George.

It makes sense.

Taking a desperately necessary bubble bath and mulling over her situation with a glass of white and some Enya, it starts to come together. The unsent letters, the locked tablet, the unexpected, unprecedented amount of anger the likes of which she's never seen before in him.

_I thought you of all people wouldn't throw my time in jail around like it's this terrible secret._

Her, of all people.

The reason for his anger, the vitriol, the hurt… the unsent letters, the girlfriend that reminds him of her when he could have her just as easily…

If he knew that he could have her, she wonders if he would still be with Annie.

If he thought he deserved to be with her, she wonders if he would ever have stopped sending the letters.

_I never judged you for going to jail._

_Oh? Which is why you're gossiping about it like it's juicy, shameful news?_

She never thought of Grigor as someone who would let shame make his decisions for him, but all the same, she can understand why he would be insecure about this part of himself, this blip on his radar.

He always wanted to be better for her. That's one thing she remembers above all else from his letters.

His wish to be a new man. To set aside the characters, the theatrics, the lies, the playing…

She can't imagine that he's proud of the choices he made prior to his time in jail,  wonders if he could ever look back on his mistakes and still think well of himself.

What does it say, then, for her to have been the one to tell Annie, the one to rub them in his face?

She has no idea how she didn't realize it sooner.

Then again, the wine is making her terribly maudlin tonight.

 

 

&

 

 

She decides to try and make it up to him the next day, Nancy more than ready to turn over a new leaf. A better her, a new her more deserving of his friendship, if not his affection.

Remembering their by-now long-standing habit of bringing apology coffee with them after fucking up, she stops at their coffee shop-- she really shouldn't think of it like that, _and yet_ \-- on her way to the theatre, a smile on her face as she passes through the main doors and peeks into the auditorium. Not there. Heading to his dressing room, she ends up lucky enough to run into him sooner-- likely headed to the auditorium-- on her way down the hallway, Nancy offering a guilty smile.

"Hey Grigor--"

"Look," he abruptly cuts her off, his expression placid and unmoving; stern at best, "I'd rather not talk about this again."

With the feeling of him dismissively brushing past her, Nancy feels her core ache, deep and hollow in her chest. Anywhere but near her. She's not sure she's ever felt this kind of hurt before.

She's not the type to cry, but if she were, this would be the perfect cue for the tears to trickle down her cheek.

If nothing else, her eyes are damp.

 

 

&

 

 

She goes home early that evening, the case seeming to be the very last thing on her mind. It's unprofessional, and Nancy resolves to get back in gear, opening night only two days away. It seems to loom in her mind's eye like a threatening deadline, and she's never been anything but a punctual, effective detective.

Tomorrow, then.

There's just one more thing she has to do first, Nancy grabbing her phone.

"Hi Ned. I think we ought to talk."

 

 

&

 

 

As a boyfriend, Ned had always been ceaselessly patient and understanding, and last night was no different.

But even with her somewhat lightened conscience, Nancy doesn't even bother, doesn't even consider telling Grigor what she did.

Today is the day to _snoop_.

Nose to the grindstone, heels dug deep into the ground, she's unstoppable.

True to form, she stays at the theatre continuing to snoop all day, not even pausing her investigation when she catches sight of Grigor's arms around Annie, kissing her forehead. Her heartbeat may have accelerated (however considerably) at their little PDA parade, but it doesn't slow her down. If anything, it speeds her up.

It's how she finally discovers-- after spending a great deal of time in the costume department-- the serial numbers connected with each costume item. So she starts checking all of them, making her way around both backstage and each and every dressing room.

Only one anomaly, Nancy holding the torn scrap of fabric up against one of the costumes in the closet. The hole is conspicuously missing, but the serial number assigned to the costume doesn't match the actor, Nancy's heart starting to pound as the realization hits her.

"Brady," she whispers, almost in awe at how intelligent-- albeit, only at certain times-- he would have had to have been in order to pull all of this off.

"You know, that took you longer than I expected it to. I'm going to assume that it was because you just were distracted by my charm."

Whipping around, Nancy just glowers. This is not a position she enjoys being in, Brady cutting off her only means of escape from his dressing room. Unless…

"Never."

"Of course not! How could I have been so blind! You only have eyes for one man, and it's definitely _not_ your boyfriend."

" _Ex_ -boyfriend," Nancy snaps, her eyes still scouring the room for possible exits.

"Ohhhh, I'm sure Giovanni will be pleased to hear it. Of course, it won't change anything. At least not unless you're hoping for a threesome. Then again, it's so… _depressing_ to be the third wheel."

"Brady, you have _everything_! Why would you do something like this?!"

Loose vent. _Bingo_. It might hurt to pry it open or to tear the cover off, but right now, she doesn't care.

"Oh no. Ohhhh no. I'm not going down that road. That's how people _lose_. By giving you people an entire story's worth of time to plan your escape."

For someone so pressed for time, he sure is stalling a lot.

"No. What I'm going to do is lock us both in here," he starts to turn around to lock the door, Nancy quick to take the advantage presented, "knock you out, stuff you in the closet, and once I'm done doing off-- _hey_!

The loud _clang_ couldn't have been avoided, Nancy pulling herself up and into the air shaft.

"Ohhhh no, you don't--"

Just over halfway in, she feels his hand wrap around her ankle, Nancy desperately trying to pull herself deeper into the air shaft even as he tries to pull her right back out.

Feeling herself tumble forward, Nancy realizes that-- thank god for ankle boots-- he only managed to grab hold of her shoe, scrambling desperately through the air shaft.

"I know this theatre better than anyone! If you think you're going anywhere I won't be, you are painfully mistaken!"

At least he couldn't fit into the air shaft, a location that would seem to be rapidly rising in temperature.

Maybe it's only her imagination. Either way, she needs to get out of there as quickly as possible.

She only vaguely remembers the blueprints she studied in Reinhardt's office only a few days ago following the stagelight incident, but if she's not mistaken, then taking a right would send her straight backstage--

Seeing that she's rapidly approaching the end, Nancy uses one of the four-way intersections to turn around, ready to exit feet first. She doesn't hear Brady yet, so she might still have time--

Kicking frantically against the grate, Nancy finally gets the shaft open just far enough to slide out and down onto the floor. Now--

"Did you honestly think I wouldn't be _right here_ , waiting for you?"

Actually, she had distinctly considered the possibility, but for now, all that matters is running, Nancy turning on her heel to start setting off on a sprint.

"All of the exits are locked, Nancy… no one here to save you. Did you really think I was going to be one of those dunderheads you so frequently take down? I accounted for everything!"

"Well, maybe if your head wasn't quite so big you would have fit into that air shaft with me!"

If she could just get up to the catwalk, she could run across, take the exit out to the lighting and sound booth and from there to the outside-- maybe if she could just pull a fire alarm-- oh, why does it have to be after hours?!

Scrambling up the steps like a madwoman, she can hear Brady following closely behind. Her one shoe really isn't doing her any favors here, Nancy pausing only to use her left foot to kick her other one off so that it might--

"Wh-- _fuck_!"

\-- land on Brady's face.

Making it up to the catwalk, Brady hot on her heels, Nancy finds the metal grating beneath her painfully digging into the soles of her feet even through her socks, but with the sound of Brady rapidly closing the gap between them, she doesn't much care, just running to the other end of the catwalk--

If she can just reach the door--!

Locked.

It's _locked_ , Nancy staring at the knob in despair-- if only she had more time she could pick it in an instant-- but she doesn't, Brady lunging for her body only to grab hold of a chunk of her blouse, which promptly tears off, much to her relief, Nancy starting to run again, this time along the other side of the catwalk. The slight lack of fabric at her side can hardly qualify as a concern, not when Brady is so close behind her already--

Scrambling back down the ladder, Nancy wincing as the soles of her feet are slowly but steadily taking a beating, she lands only to frantically look for--

Fire alarm.

Running to it backstage, she pulls it down with no small amount of force, but-- nothing. She tries again. Nothing.

"Oh no--"

"Oh yes," Brady says all too smugly from right behind her, Nancy only just barely managing to throw a kick backward-- it hurt, from the sound of it-- before she sets off on a run again.

There's another fire alarm at the back of the theatre, if she could just reach it--

As the stage curtain falls on top of her, effectively trapping her underneath, the weight of it painfully heavy, Nancy realizes that she underestimated Brady. Badly.

There's pain; her left side is aching, something _definitely_ not right, and for a moment Nancy fights just to stay conscious through the pain.

_That's the fly system. It controls the scenery and the curtains and it'll kill you._

"All you have to do," Brady starts, crossing to the front of the curtain to look down on her. "Is be with me. And we can forget all of this. I'll even let your precious Giovanni live."

"I could never forgive what you did here!"

"Oh, so you'd rather he die, then? You might want to tell him that before he goes and makes you the third wheel…"

"You _disgust_ me."

" _Tsk tsk_ , for someone in your rather precarious position, you sure are running your mouth a _lot_ … you might want to reconsider your technique. What was that saying again? You catch more flies with honey than vinegar…"

"If I'm going to die, at least tell me why you're doing this!"

"Do you have _any_ idea what it's like to be in my shoes?!"

Nancy groans. "... cushy?"

"I have been trying for _years_ to prove myself on the theatre scene, but no one takes me seriously there! They only want me in front of a camera in stupid Hallmark movies and romcoms! So since _Broadway_ decided to so coolly reject me, I thought, _fine_ , I'll show them! I'll make a name for myself in Chicago _first_. And what happens? I get the role of _Friar Laurence_ in some prepubescent adaptation of _Romeo and Juliet_ when I'm _clearly_ lead character material! Anyone that's seen my movies knows! But when I talked to the director, he refused to budge. The only thing he was willing to do was make me the understudy to your boy Giovanni there. So I _knew_ that the only thing standing in the way of my reaching the next step of the ladder toward the Broadway theatre scene was this _buffoon_ of an actor. So I decided to try and get rid of him. Annoy him into leaving. But then you showed up… and I thought maybe theatre wasn't all that important if I could have you... but then you rejected me, too, Nancy. And when I realized that something I wanted had been taken away from me _again_ solely because of this buffoon… it only further motivated me to get him out of the picture… and frankly, if I had known that being the recipient of all those threats meant that you would be near their victim on a constant basis, I would have set the threats up to target myself."

"No one would have cared, Brady," Nancy groans again, fighting to get out from underneath the curtain. It's useless, the sharp pain in her side doing her exactly zero favors. She's trapped. "You're not the lead actor. Though you are still forgetting one major thing."

"Oh, I am, am I?"

"Grigor was _not_ the only one that was standing in the way of you and me being together. I would never have wanted to be with you in the first place."

"You keep calling him that! Why?! Why is he _Grigor_ to you?!"

Nancy doesn't manage to answer him, not as her eyes widen, her gaze instantly drawn to where the main entry doors to the auditorium suddenly open, two firefighters rushing through, Brady looking almost paralyzed in place.

"Someone in this building pulled a fire alarm--"

She's not about to question the miracle. She has no idea how they could have known-- though she imagines that it must have just been a problem on the theatre's end, the notification still having gone through. Either way, it's a blessing from god, a veritable _deus ex machina_ from where she's lying.

"Officers, _help_! Catch that man!"

Brady's inaction doesn't last long, his eyes widening before he promptly sets off on a sprint, Nancy fighting the curtains all the harder at that. They're almost diabolically heavy, though their presence also happens to have the wonderful side effect of blocking a hasty exit backstage on Brady's part, Nancy looking up just in time to see him get tackled to the ground.

"Let-- go of me--! Don't you have any idea who I am--?!"

"I'm sure the young woman here wouldn't mind letting the police know exactly who you are."

Relief seems to flood her system, Nancy offering them an infinitely grateful smile.

"I… could use some help, too... if you wouldn't mind… I'm pretty sure I broke a rib."

Feeling the curtain lift off of her body, Nancy can't help the groan that escapes her-- half-pain, half-deliverance-- one of the firemen helping her back up onto her feet.

"You doing all right?"

"I'm… fine. I'm just glad he's finally been caught."

"Well… that will be the police's job once they get here. I've already sent for a dispatch to head this way. Are you going to need to be seen by a paramedic?"

"Oh, no, that really won't be necessary. It's just a broken rib."

"If you're sure…?"

"I am. Not a whole lot they can do about that." She'd know; it's happened before, Nancy offering the fireman a grateful smile. "Would you mind if I asked him a question before the police arrive?"

"I don't see why not… just remember, he has the right not to answer you."

Nancy nods before walking to Brady, his expression grim at best.

"I'm not even going to ask if it was worth it. I just want to know how the firemen got in here when you said the doors to the auditorium were locked."

"I _lied_. And if your little trick with the fire alarm hadn't worked, I would have _had_ you. Just think about that."

Nancy shrugs. "Maybe. But you didn't."

 

 

&

 

 

It's a long rest of the night for everyone involved even after Brady ends up in police custody, Nancy careful to answer all of the police's questions as they arose. To her knowledge, Director Reinhardt and Grigor were called in for questioning, too, but by the time they had finished up with her, it was already long dark out, Nancy uncertain as to whether or not either of them were still at the station.

So she heads home.

Her hands in her pockets, the soles of her boots making the snow crunch beneath them, breath visible in front of her face, she can't help but feel… strange, what with the case being over and done with. In theory, she doesn't even need to return to the theatre. She could just call up Reinhardt tomorrow, have him mail her check to her, and declare the whole matter done and dealt with. It's not like moving around is particularly painless this time of year. It's absolutely freezing, both Nancy's nose and the tips of her ears a bright, angry red by the time she reaches her apartment, kicking the snow off her boots.

All things considered, she could-- _should_ \-- just let Grigor go.

Leave him to his happy life with Annie.

Consider that his story doesn't have to be hers, too.

If pressed for an answer, Bess would tell her not to do it and George would tell her to do what felt right to her.

She's not sure she knows what that is, head and heart pulled in two separate directions. Returning to the theatre is illogical. It's opening herself up to more pain-- and not just in the form of her broken rib, bothersome as that might be, Nancy taking some ibuprofen and getting out one of her ice packs to press against her side. It's… painful, but. Hopefully the ibuprofen kicks in sooner rather than later.

She finds fairly quickly that laughing genuinely hurts, Nancy opting for the Bess version of self-care and putting on _Pride & Prejudice_ to accompany the chocolate she's eating. (It's far better than the George version, which prescribes an excess amount of water and several laps around her building. Nancy might not be a big fan of sitting in one place for too long, but with a broken rib even she knows that would be pushing it.)

It's all well and good until it hits her that she's painfully single, in love with a man she can't have, and watching a film about a couple whose social standings and differences keep them apart.

When she watches Mr. Darcy cross the moor to see Elizabeth, she knows she has to at least see him, if only to apologize and say goodbye.

 

 

&

 

 

"I don't want it. Really."

The director seems to have frozen in disbelief, the tip of his pen just hovering above the check he was clearly about to sign as he stares at her.

"I cannot possibly accept it."

"We… agreed upon a set amount of money before you ever took on the job."

"I've done plenty of work for free in the past, Director."

"Yes…" He eyes her almost warily. "I'm quite familiar with your past work... but I also understand that this is your profession now, not just a hobby anymore. You did a _great_ deal of work for me when no one else would. I would feel _deeply_ indebted to you if you were to refuse all means of pay."

"I really don't need anything… just… perhaps a short line dedicated to me in one of your pamphlets? That might be nice."

"Nancy, I'll happily do that _and_ dedicate the show to both you and your services to this theatre. And if there's _ever_ absolutely _anything_ I can do… please. Don't hesitate to ask. Including if you change your mind about the pay!"

"Thank you, Director."

She leaves his office empty-handed, but far happier with herself for her actions, too. Now she just has one more thing to do, Nancy heading down the hallway to his dressing room.

Judging by the way her hands are trembling and her heart is pounding… it's definitely the more difficult of the two, Nancy steeling herself for a long moment. Taking a deep breath-- throat tight-- she raps softly against his door.

No turning back now.

"Come in; it's op-- _oh_."

She hovers in the doorway, her gaze falling from his as she fights to find her tongue again. She practiced this last night; it shouldn't be nearly so difficult as it seems to be now.

"I just came to say goodbye."

"Nancy..."

She shakes her head, quickly interrupting him. "Just-- let me say my piece and then I'll go and I'll leave you alone… forever, if that's what you what."

She takes a deep breath when her words are met with the silence she was hoping for, Nancy's words quiet as she steps into his dressing room to lean his door shut, just barely.

"... I'm in love with you. I wish that... was easy for me to say, but I've never been great talking about my feelings. I guess that has to do with losing my mom. At any rate… I'm sorry. I'm not good at dealing with-- or admitting to-- any feelings, and obviously I let that affect my work in this case. I acted unprofessionally and that… extended to my personal life. It's just that… if I didn't tell you now, I wasn't ever going to tell you. Especially seeing as I solved the case… and I don't know if I'll ever see you again."

Grigor looks to be nigh speechless, just… staring at her for a long moment. He doesn't look happy. She's not even sure if it ought to make her happy or not.

"Won't-- won't you be at opening night?"

It seems like such a silly little thing to be asking about in the grand scheme of things, but-- she reckons she knows Grigor more than anyone. Dealing with the bigger things was never something he was particularly good at. Still isn't. It's gotten him in trouble so many times before.

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

"No," she shakes her head, swallowing hard as she fights to avoid his gaze. "I've seen the dress rehearsals countless times already… and at any rate, I've seen more than enough of you kissing someone else to last me a lifetime." She chuckles, but it's dry and bitter at best. "So I'd really rather just sit this one out."

She might not deserve a lot of pity, but she can't help but feel like she might at least deserve a few days to lick her wounds. Keep herself busy with something else. A new case, maybe. She can't remember the last time she was single. It feels… strange.

"That's--" He stares at her in what she can only consider to be disbelief, Grigor slowly moving to stand. " _That's_ what this has been about all this time? You've-- you've just been _jealous_?!"

It's her turn to stare at him downright incredulously, Nancy blinking almost owlishly. He has _got_ to be kidding, right?

"... okay, _um_ … I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say to that. _Wow, Grigor, that's so considerate of you to notice!_ seems to be the only appropriate thing that comes to mind-- especially seeing as how it was _so_ considerate of you to not find me after you were released from jail even though I _told you_ I'd wait for you!"

She's never been good with her emotions. Tears come out as anger, hurt comes out as bitter resentment and sarcasm. It's easier to make a mockery of someone than to tell them how they've hurt her.

When he speaks, though, his voice is far softer than she expected it to be, sadder. More battle-worn and weary.

"Nancy… after I got out of jail, they put me in witness protection. New name, new life… and even then I wasn't safe. I was miserable in witness protection. I was looking over my shoulder everywhere I went, everything I did… and that didn't change after I got out. The last thing I wanted was to drag you into that. I didn't want you to feel obligated to be miserable beside me, I didn't… want you to have to go and change your name, and the very last thing I wanted was to see you in danger because of something I did. I already managed to do that once. I wasn't about to make that mistake a second time."

He sighs, taking a deep breath before he just gets up and closes the door beside her before turning to her, keeping his hand trained against the door as he looks at her. He's too close.

"I thought I was doing what was best for you. Which… in hindsight, was quite stupid. And not only because I lost you, but because I was miserable for _years_ just missing you." He almost laughs, the sound as humorless as her own before, Grigor shaking his head at himself. "To tell you the truth... when I got out of witness protection, I came to River Heights to see you. And… then I found out that you were on a case. You were doing just fine without me. The evidence was staring me right in the face. And so I realized just how selfish I was being. I could never deserve you. And then to think that I would weigh you down with my sorry ass when I can't even walk around with my own name anymore without also fearing for my life? If I cared for you at all, I knew it was up to me to let you be happy without me and move on."

She doesn't expect his touch when it comes, but when it does, Grigor reaching up to gently cup her cheek with his hand, his thumb playing over her cheekbone as he just lets himself look at her, she can't help the way her eyes close, the way she sighs at the feeling.

It's like coming home from a long, hard winter, warmth seeping deep into her bones as he pulls her closer to press a kiss to her forehead.

"Seems you've been pretty bad at that," she says through a small smile, Grigor echoing it even as he cups her face, thumbs playing on her cheeks as he looks at her for a long moment. When he lets his forehead meet hers, soft, Nancy lets her eyes flutter closed again, her hands coming up to meet his wrists, as though straining for something-- anything-- to hold onto.

She's not used to feeling unsteady.

His voice is just above a whisper now, a strangely intimate sound, Nancy just breathing him in as he keeps her undeniably close.

"I didn't. I couldn't. I haven't been able to move on at all. I missed you like you were a part of me, and there wasn't a single day I didn't think of you. But... I've also never been a good man. I've made countless mistakes throughout my life and sometimes I think you were the only exception. And even then I dragged you into my problems along with me."

"I drag myself into trouble just fine," she says softly, Nancy unable to keep herself from smiling, her eyes undeniably damp beneath the lids.

"I know. I know you do. I remember when I told you back in Greece that you seemed to get in trouble a lot… or that trouble had a tendency to seek you out. I was afraid that I was that trouble. So I used the fact that you had stopped writing as justification that I was right about not deserving you."

"I'm so sorry about that--"

He shakes his head softly against her. "Don't. I don't know how I could have controlled myself if you had been writing the whole time."

"I didn't want you to."

"I could have never forgiven myself if I somehow managed to get you hurt. That still scares me. So I told myself that you could do better and never sent you the letters. I told you everything in those letters, everything that happened in the past five or so years of my life. I saved every ticket stub from every show I was in because I wanted you to be proud of me. And I never thought that you'd get to see any of it. But then… this happened. And suddenly I couldn't get you out of my head again even if I tried. And believe me, I tried."

"At the risk of sounding insensitive… I'm glad you were the target of threats."

He laughs, a warm sound. "You saved my life. You can be as insensitive as you want."

Nancy laughs, the first genuine laugh she's heard out of herself since this whole mess even got started, and feels Grigor smile against her.

It's strange, how happy she feels, Nancy feeling Grigor's demeanor shift again, pulling away from her forehead and beckoning her to look at him again.

"Nancy, I love you. From the moment you kissed me on that boat in Greece, I've always loved you. I will always love you. Nothing can change that."

"But…?"

"No but. There isn't a thing in this world that could--"

She remembers that kiss, and it's what she's thinking about when she throws caution to the wind once more and closes the gap between them to kiss him.

It's like breaching a dam, Nancy opening the floodgates to give way to eight years of yearning and wanting, Grigor pulling her closer as he deepens their kiss, her face still held in his hands, clearly unwilling to let her go.

Not that she'd want to, Nancy feeling a moan escape her throat as he guides her, pushes her back against the edge of-- something; she doesn't really care.

When he-- temporarily-- breaks the kiss to look at her, both of them breathing hard and fast, Nancy just shakes her head. No stopping.

"More?"

"More."

She barely has time to nod her assent; there's no hesitation, no awkwardness, the two of them seeming to fit together like puzzle pieces, both desperate to make up for eight years spent apart. He's intoxicating. His kisses are slow and deep, not frantic or hurried, and she can't blame him one bit.

They deserve to take their time with one another.

She hears a moan from somewhere-- she thinks it might have been her-- just before the distinct sound of a door opening seems to interrupt the peace.

Oh no.

"Gio--?!"

Their kiss ends far too abruptly, Nancy catching sight of the tears welling up in Annie's eyes long before they start falling and she turns to run.

" _Fuck_ \-- Annie--!"

What she hadn't expected was for Grigor to run after her.

If she were the type to cry, it would have been the perfect time.

 

 

&

 

 

"Well, are you going to go?!"

"I don't know," Nancy snaps, impatiently staring at her answering machine in the hopes that a message might appear, a new case, anything at all to take her mind off this

"Nancy, there's only one right answer here! You have to go!"

"You really don't _have to do_ anything," George supplies un/helpfully, as usual. "You could always just wait for him to call you."

Nancy sighs, tapping her pen against the table as she glares down at the crossword puzzle, like it would solve itself if only she were insistent enough. "He doesn't have my number."

"Christ, Nancy, you couldn't have given him a business card or something?!"

"Sorry if I didn't want to stick around in his dressing room all by myself after getting ditched."

"Ugh, Nancy, this is _awful_! You do not give someone the kiss of a lifetime and then just leave them!"

"You're telling me."

"Just… do what your gut tells you to do tomorrow night."

All things considered, as much as she adores George, she's absolutely _awful_ at advice like this. She's too… practical, too logical about this. If logic had won the battle in this case, she wouldn't even be in this pickle to begin with. She'd still be with Ned, Grigor would never know about her feelings, and things would feel far better and far more normal.

"If he wants to be with me, he can look up my number in the yellow pages for all I care."

"Nancy, no one reads those anymore. I'm pretty sure most people don't even know they exist. Although… that _does_ answer the question of how you manage to get so many cases from old people..."

"Bess!"

"What?! I've just always wondered!"

"At any rate, I don't have to decide tomorrow. The show's going to be running for at least a few months. And it _really_ doesn't matter that I have a prime seat reserved for me or that they're going to be honoring me." She can't let it matter. The last thing she wants is to show up to the theatre for all the wrong reasons and then get to sit through three hours of torture as punishment.

"They're honoring you?"

"Well, I _did_ sort of save their lead actor's life… although I guess I _could_ always call Reinhardt and ask him to reschedule."

"Nancy, _no_! You sleep on this for too long and he'll pick her!"

"Bess, he already has. Going there tomorrow night is only going to make it hurt worse when all I really want is to move on with my life."

"Do what's best for you," George adds, and for once, Nancy thinks it might not be terrible advice. And while it's completely possible that she only thinks this now because it's what she wants to hear, it's only the logical, reasonable portion of her.

She knows fully well that, were she flipping a coin for the answer, while up in the air, she'd know exactly what she'd want it to come up as.

Even if it's hardly the logical choice.

She doesn't give herself time to think on it; the second her conversation with Bess and George ends, she calls Reinhardt to leave a voicemail calling the whole thing off.

That way, she won't be tempted.

 

 

&

 

 

She wakes up the next day with an undeniable ache in her chest, Nancy momentarily confused as to what could be causing it.

When it hits her the next second like roughly a ton of bricks, she wishes she hadn't thought to investigate further, suddenly wishing desperately for the return of the blissful ignorance of sleep.  

Prior to now, she supposes it had all been an extended state of limbo, of never knowing for sure how the story would end for her.

Now it feels like the decision is in her hands, and she doesn't like it one bit.

Her breakfast tastes impossibly bland, Nancy sighing in frustration as she mulls over her options, still absently glaring at the crossword puzzle. The sudoku had been no problem...

She could absolutely wall herself up and refuse to leave her apartment. Take Bess' advice and eat chocolate-- not that she has an appetite right now-- watch an excessive amount of netflix-- for Nancy, usually an excess of documentaries-- and cry it out.

That last one she already knows is never going to happen. The only reason she ever even buys tissues in the first place is for when she gets sick… or for when Bess starts crying whenever an animal shows up on screen while they're watching a movie.

Okay, so she's exaggerating a _bit_. But her point stands.

Taking George's advice-- going for a long-distance endurance run in the blistering cold until she feels better-- might actually get her frostbite, so, in lieu of actually braving the cold, she decides to head down into the apartment's fitness facilities to try and get her mind off Grigor.

It's a pointless, albeit healthy, exercise, Nancy finally giving up after an hour on the elliptical and instead heading up to her apartment, where she quickly finds herself back in another bubble bath.

If she _did_ decide to go… well, it wouldn't do to not be clean.

Not that she's going, of course. But hypothetically…

Maybe she could have dinner with the girls for a distraction. Not… that they'd let her stop thinking about how she should go to the play tonight, of course… maybe she needs more friends.

Her mind drifts briefly to Deirdre before promptly swinging back into the realm of realism. Okay, no. Definitely not an option.

It's been a little while since she went to see Hannah and her dad… maybe they would have her over for dinner. Of course, her father would ask about Ned, and unless she wanted to lie, she'd have to explain to him what happened…

Maybe if she just told him she wasn't ready to talk about it…

At any rate, going to the play seems entirely out of the question. Unless, perhaps, she brought her friends along?

No. Absolutely not.

 

 

&

 

 

It's at around four when Nancy finds herself looking through her closet, her hair half-done up, frustrated at her absolute lack of formal wear pretty enough for the occasion. She's already worn her little black dress; it wouldn't do to wear it again…

Of course, that's assuming that she's going. Which she's still not sure of just yet.

Granted, if she can't find a good dress, the decision might already be made for her, though that seems to be only spurring her subconscious on to go. She really ought to read up on reverse psychology and how to best counteract it in herself…

Doors open at seven thirty. That still gives her three and a half more hours to find something to wear _and_ make a decision.  

She's defused bombs, stopped murderers, chased down villains, and solved the mysteries of several ancient civilizations.

Why, then, is this so hard?

 

 

&

 

 

If dinner with her father and Hannah was her lifeline, she's just lost it, Nancy sitting in nothing but her underwear and her bathrobe on her bed as she glowers at her phone.

She'd forgotten that her father was in Cochabamba, Hannah off to visit Aunt Eloise in Florida for her retirement party.

For a very brief, insane moment, she actually considers calling Grigor.

Then she realizes she doesn't have his number. Her mind flitters through a vast variety of options-- checking the whitepages, calling Reinhardt to ask him, calling the theatre to get him on the phone-- and finds that she likes exactly none of them.

It's also six-forty and she still hasn't found anything to wear.

 

 

&

 

 

She's not going. She's not. She can't. There are simply too many emotional risk factors involved.

If she goes and he ignores her, she'll be heartbroken.

If she goes and he tells her that he's decided to stay with Annie, she'll be heartbroken.

In the end, she'll still have to sit through three hours of Grigor kissing and confessing his undying love for his girlfriend.

All things considered, she's not even sure what she's expecting. What she'd want to have happen.

At seven twenty, her phone rings, Nancy grabbing her bookmark to set her book aside before grabbing it to answer.

"... hi George."

"Nancy, you should go."

"What?"

"I'm serious. I think you should go. Otherwise you'll always wonder what could have happened if you had gone and I'm telling you that you'll regret it."

"... is Bess forcing you to do this?"

"Bess couldn't force me to do anything if she _tried_ \--" a loud _hey!!_ is heard from the background-- "even if she really doesn't want that to be true… but no, honestly. You should go. You also have like… three minutes until the doors open. Just something to keep in mind while you try to argue your way out of this one."

"I… don't have anything appropriate to wear. I already wore that black dress that Bess got me to the cast party at their apartment; I can't go to the theatre wearing the same thing."

"Yeah, so? Why don't you just wear that red thing you brought back from Italy. You'd look hot _and_ formal... which I assume is the goal here."

That red thing. She forgot about her red Samantha Quick dress, what with it hidden away in the very back of her closet, Nancy sitting up, eyes wide.

" _George_! Serious suggestions only, please!"

"And since when have you known me to joke about stuff like this, exactly?"

"I can't wear that to the theatre!"

"Nancy, I cannot possibly know why you'd think that. It's _definitely_ long enough, it's not _that_ form-fitting, there isn't even that much cleavage visible..."

She presses her lips together. George isn't exactly wrong.

"It's just… very… unlike me."

"Hey, it's not like I'm telling you to wear that catsuit you brought back!"

"... I… suppose it wouldn't hurt… to try it on again..."

"Good! Now get to it! You only have about fifteen minutes left before the show starts!"

"Okay, okay! I'm working on it--" Nancy climbs up out of bed to open her closet with a sigh. "I just... hadn't exactly expected to be going anywhere."

"Well, you are! So get moving! And call us when you get to the theatre, or we're coming to kick you out of your apartment."

She can't believe she's actually doing this.

 

 

&

 

 

She's never been a fan of gambling; games of chance have never really been her thing.

She wonders if that will change tonight, her heart half-threatening to beat out of her chest as she works frantically to put her hair back up, get dressed, and get herself looking somewhat presentable. Working under the constraints of time pressure is hardly a stranger to her, Nancy having extricated herself from more than several dozen such situations before now in order to save her life, someone else's life, parts of the world both big and small…

This feels harder than all of those combined.

She's _good_ at working under pressure. But this is different, and Nancy has to admit that she'd honestly prefer to nab a kidnapper, take down a monster, or save a country over this. This is… new territory.

If she's like this now, she can't help but be concerned about what she'd be like on an actual date; she's really only ever been with Ned, after all, the last time she was on a first date was… over a decade ago.

This is most _definitely_ not her forte, and to say that she is out of practice would be putting it lightly.  

So when she has to rush back into her apartment on three separate occasions to grab things that she accidentally forgot each and every time… well, she can't exactly say that she's all too surprised.

By the time she gets outside, she's actually momentarily surprised by the weather; she should have checked first, really-- even her thick peacoat and scarf are pitiful shields when put up to the test opposite a Chicago blizzard-- Nancy hailing a cab only to find herself shivering by the time one actually stops for her.

She's infinitely grateful for the heating inside car, Nancy marveling at the city outside her window from the safety of its heated confines. The whole world seems to have frozen over while she was busy trying to justify not leaving her apartment, her bare legs doing little to help her situation as a thick flakes of snow descend densely and heavily upon Chicago, a far sleepier town tonight than usual. She knows she has snow in her hair that is going to get her up-do wet sooner rather than later, but all things considered, she doesn't particularly care; not when she has bigger things to worry about tonight.

It's hard to view the weather as anything but a sign that she should have stayed home; that she's a madwoman for braving this snowstorm, and yet…

And yet there's an undeniable current of excitement coursing through her as she impatiently watches the meter; as sleepy as the town feels tonight, it's hard to dispute the fact that the weather, the ice-slicked streets cloaked by a relentless deluge of snow, are making it nigh impossible to drive, Nancy rhythmically tapping her foot on the damp floormat. The show's long started by now, she knows _at least_ that much, and the closer they get to the Bellevue, the more she's starting to think that this might be a bad idea, a terrible decision, both personally and otherwise, her fingers hovering over her speed dial.

_Just press it. Tell him you were wrong, that you're sorry, and that you actually think the two of you are great together. It would be so much easier than this._

The cab lurches to a stop before she gets the chance to call Ned, Nancy feeling like she might actually throw up at the sight of the theatre front. The cabby is saying something; she knows as much, but understanding him is a different story, Nancy just opening her clutch to pull out enough money to pay him before opening the car door to clamber out, unsteady at best. Between the wafer-thin black ice and her high heels… it's a miracle she doesn't just hit the payment, Nancy fighting to stay upright, her steps careful as she hovers just outside the theatre, her heart in her throat, impossibly tight, practically choking her--

Getting her phone out of her clutch again, she presses speed dial to call George, her heart pounding as her free arm wraps more tightly around herself to ward off the cold.

"I don't know if I can do this."

"Nan? Where are you?"

"Outside the theatre."

"Well, then you can do this. You've come this far, haven't you?"

"I don't know."

"Nancy!" she hears Bess' voice cut in from the background, evidently doing her best to make up for distance from the phone with sheer volume. "Do it!"

Leaning her forehead into the space between thumb and forefinger, Nancy takes in a deep, strained breath.

"I don't know. I'm already so late-- it would be impolite for me to go in now--"

"Nan, are you listening to yourself? You're just making excuses. You and I _both_ know that. So just get in there and get yourself a ticket."

"I don't know," she echoes herself once more.

"Okay, look. Just… let's do this one step at the time. Just… go inside the theatre for now."

She has to admit, the warm confines of the theatre are looking increasingly appealing.

"It's not like you have to commit to anything by just going inside."

"I… suppose not," she mutters, stubborn as ever, her half-frozen fingers wrapping around the door handle to let herself inside. "... all right. I'm there. But I'm not really sure what this accomplishes."

"Now... just go buy yourself a ticket."

"What? No!" She's pretty sure George must have missed about a million steps in between there-- what about going to the bathroom to give herself a pep talk in the mirror? Or... uh... all right, so just the pep talk, then. At any rate, shouldn't that happen first?

"It's not like you getting a ticket makes a decision for you… it just means that the possibility of you going into the auditorium exists."

"Well, sure, but I'm not so sure that I want it to."

"Nance, the possibility has always existed. Now go buy yourself a ticket or I swear to god, Bess and I are coming down there and forcing you into that theatre!"

"Okay, okay! Jeeze. All right, hang on."

Her left hand is trembling almost angrily when she approaches the counter, Nancy doing well to keep it out of the ticket vendor's sightline.

"... one ticket, please."

"Ma'am, the show is almost over."

"I know that," Nancy mutters irritably, just pulling out her credit card to slide across the counter. Couldn't he just do his job and ring her up? "Just… a seat near the back door, if it's possible."

"Well, we have no more aisle seats available, but let me see..."

Taking her card, Nancy glances down at her phone with no small amount of annoyance. They really had to talk her into this, didn't they? She sure hopes they're happy with themselves.

"... uh, ma'am?"

"What now?!" Nancy snaps, willing herself to calm down promptly after.

"I'm not authorized to charge you for anything."

"... what do you mean?"

"You have a permanent VIP seat in the front row. I am not allowed to sell that seat to anyone."

Taking in a deep breath, Nancy wills herself to keep doing it. To keep breathing. She should have known Reinhardt would do something like this.

"And there's… really nothing I can have that's closer to an exit?"

"The show's almost entirely sold out, ma'am."

Christ, is she _eighty_? Why is he calling her _ma'am_ , of all things?

"Fine. Fine." She grabs her card back, hastily stuffing it back into her clutch. "In that case, just... give me the ticket, I suppose."

The noise of the printer is almost soothing, Nancy finally picking it up with no small amount of relief. It was supposed to be the other way around, but now all she really wants is to get out of this conversation.

"Thank you."

Briskly walking away, she marches straight into the women's restroom to get back on the phone.

"How much of that did you hear?"

"Uh, enough to know that you're apparently a celebrity now?"

"Urghhhh," Nancy groans, rolling her eyes in exasperation. "Well, you heard him. I can't go in there now. My seat's in the _front row_ , more or less dead center."

"I mean, I can't say I'm surprised…? You did sorta save their lead actor's life, right? That's the way you put it."

"That's not the point." Nancy's exhale is shaky at best, but… getting better. This is insane. She can't believe she's even here, wearing this _ridiculous_ dress-- "I can't just waltz in there in the middle of the show. It's already past intermission!"

"Well, on the bright side, this way you won't have to see them make out."

All right, that might be true.

"Besides, Bess made a good point earlier while you were struggling with the ticket vendor… once you get yourself your new boyfriend, considering your standing with the theatre, you could get us free tickets, too..."

Staring at herself in the mirror, Nancy can't believe she's actually going to do this. She hardly even recognizes herself.

"All right. I'll call you guys later."

"Keep us updated!"

Hanging up, Nancy takes a deep, shaky breath and stuffs her phone back into her clutch before fixing her hair and makeup somewhat. No point in trying to look halfway decent in front of the love of your life if a blizzard is going to ruin the whole ensemble.

Stepping back to look at herself, Nancy finds her reflection staring accusingly back at her.

She can do this. She's done harder things. They might not have involved her heart, but she's still Nancy _Fucking_ Drew.

 _Okay_.

 

 

&

 

 

The ticket vendor wasn't kidding; the theatre is almost surprisingly crowded, Nancy doing her best to blend in as she makes her way into the damn _front row_ and sits down. It's the good sort of crowded, the kind one hopes for on opening night.

He's not on stage right now, something she's infinitely grateful for. It's a scene that she's previously seen Brady in, Nancy now happy to see his understudy-- a cocky little extra that reminds her entirely too much of Rick Arlen-- in the role instead, Friar Laurence speaking with Friar John. But even in spite of his slimeball-esque attributes... she still prefers him to Brady any day.

Well, at least she doesn't have to watch him make out with Annie for too terribly long… and really, all things considered, the last scene only sees him kiss her-- albeit, twice-- before dying. If she ignores the presence of the poison in the story, she could almost convince herself of Annie's kiss having been the only lethal component involved.

She finds her heart rate accelerating again as the end of the scene draws near, Nancy applauding alongside everyone else as the stage goes dark, the crew quick to alter the stage's landscape to suit the final scene in the churchyard, Paris-- Brandon James-- and one of the extras the first to enter.

Finding her hand shaking again, Nancy quickly tucks it under her thigh, her teeth digging almost viciously into her lower lip as she waits, bated breath and all.

" _What cursed foot wanders this way tonight to cross my obsequies and true love’s rite? What with a torch! Muffle me, night, awhile._ "

Her heart catches in her chest at the sight of him as he enters from stage left (she's seen this play _far_ too many times by now) alongside Balthasar's actor, not that she particularly cares.

" _Give me that mattock and the wrenching iron._ " Watching him grab them, Nancy licks her lips. She can't help but wonder if he'd even see her, recognize her in the audience with the stage lights... but they're dim during this scene, cold and clean at best.

" _Hold, take this letter. Early in the morning see thou deliver it to my lord and father. Give me the light._ "

Watching him grab the torch, Nancy fights the urge to look away as he finally turns to face the audience for the first time in this scene, his eyes seeming to scan the audience as though--

Oh.

She knows fully well he's not _supposed_ to be staring at her, let alone pausing, but still it happens before Grigor wrenches his gaze away and gestures back at Balthasar to start his line.

She's not sure if anyone else noticed-- then again, it seems like it would have been hard to miss, really-- but she can't help the flutter in her stomach at the thought that he might have been happy to see her, that he might have continued to hope for her to show up even after catching an empty seat every other time on stage.

A part of her feels somewhat guilty-- all right, a lot guilty-- for making him wait at all, but then, she can't help but just be grateful that she managed to make it into the theatre in the first place.

Through the rest of the scene, his gaze keeps straying to her, Nancy careful to rein in her reactions. She can't feel happy yet. It's completely plausible that he might be looking at her not because he wants to be with her, but because he has to tell her the news that he's not choosing her at all.

The possibility exists entirely, Nancy fighting her-- empty-- stomach, desperately wishing to just make it through the rest of the show-- somehow.

On the one hand, she can't wait for it to be over already. On the other… the closer they get to it being over, the more anxious she gets, Nancy nervously chewing on the inside of her cheek as she watches Grigor kiss a dead Juliet on stage, her stomach in knots.

She feels sick to her stomach as she stands, her clutch tucked under her arm to applaud first the love of her life… then, lacklusterly, his girlfriend... both of them together… christ, could they have made their relationship any clearer? But then the two of them take their spots at the side of the stage, applauding their co-stars, and Nancy catches Grigor's gaze as he trains his on her.

Maybe it's stupid to be hopeful. But she doesn't care.

By the time they're finally done clapping, Nancy's hands are almost sore, watching as the cast is invariably drawn backstage again.

If he had had the choice, she wonders if he would have gone to see her in the audience even in spite of everyone else's queer looks at the two of them.

But he doesn't.

She knows some people will be mingling out in the lobby to just stand there and chat, perhaps hope to meet some actors that are feeling more than just a little sociable… Nancy, meanwhile, is just regretting having given up her master key that could have allowed her to slip backstage.

Then again, it's not really a place she's supposed to be anymore, Nancy instead making her way back out of the theatre.

No, the proper place to wait for actors is at the stage door.

She's come this far, so she's at least going to do it right. Fuck the cold. She's stronger than that. Her toes might feel just about frozen solid through her heels, but she's dealt with worse.

It takes a bit.

It's a small theatre in Chicago, hardly Broadway, the actors perfectly content to sign things in the lobby, so it's just her out there, Nancy slowly wondering if this was a mistake, if she shouldn't have just given up and gone home-- or never left her apartment in the first place.

But... then some actors begin to trickle out.

It's how she imagines Grigor must have learned about her location, Nancy smiling or greeting a few of them as they leave-- _not_ Annie, who just ignores her, no surprise there-- her arms pulled firmly around herself as she shivers.

"He should be out any moment," Aaron-- Benvolio-- tells her on his way out, a suspiciously coy, knowing smile on his face. "He's been looking all over for you, you know."

Her chest seems to light up at that, even if she's telling herself-- Annie's brisk exit notwithstanding-- that it could be just because they need to talk.

But… she hopes not.

The door finally opens, Nancy offering a small smile in response to his almost exaggerated sigh of relief as he rushes down the steps, his hands at her upper arms in an instant, nothing but concern etched on his features.

"Fuck, Nancy, you must be freezing--"

"I am, actually. But… that's all right."

At least it isn't coming down like it's the end of the world anymore, just soft, slow flakes making their way down to where they are.

"Are you sure?"

Nancy nods. If he's going to tell her he's already picked Annie instead of her, the cold with feel therapeutic.

She's not about to take that failsafe away from herself.

"I thought you weren't going to come."

"I almost didn't," she admits somewhat softly, her gaze falling until he reaches to tilt her chin back up, returning her gaze to his.

"I'm glad you did."

"I don't want to assume anything--"

"I wouldn't mind if you did."

"... Annie kind of… stormed past here like I was air."

"I can't say I'm surprised," he offers with a small smile. "You stole her boyfriend from her."

"I did?"

"Mmhmm. After I caught up with her yesterday… we ended up having a long talk and agreed it was best to split up. Especially seeing as I'm still in love with this other woman..."

She can't help the relieved smile that comes over her features at his words.

"Oh? What's she like?"

"She's… smart and beautiful… strikingly pretty, actually. An absolute genius, too. Wonderful person. I happen to think the world of her. And not only because I love her."

"I broke up with Ned a few days ago," she admits somewhat quietly, Grigor echoing her smile.

"... and now she's even single."

"Is that so?"

He nods, looking almost smug. She'd hate that smile if she wasn't so in love with it.

"I met her in Greece, you see… almost eight years ago."

"Sounds like a story I might enjoy hearing..."

"Oh, you would. It's one I'm planning on telling our kids someday."

"Kids?" Nancy grins. "You'd need to kiss me fir--"

He steals the words from her lips, just leaning in to kiss her, all gentle passion, just like she remembers from him, Nancy sighing against his lips as she leans into him.

She feels him pull away-- too soon, infinitely too soon-- Grigor leaning his forehead to hers as he reaches to capture her hands in his.

"You're freezing."

"Maybe. I wouldn't know. See, I'm a bit distracted from that kiss..."

Cupping her cheek, he chuckles, kissing the back of her hand.

"It won't do for me to lose you to frostbite so soon after I just got you back."

"What do you suggest?"

Grigor smiles. 'Would the lady be willing to join me in a cab ride?"

"I… could be persuaded."

"In that case… your carriage awaits, m'lady."

 

 

&

 

 

He doesn't kiss her again on the cab ride home, Grigor keeping his hands (mostly) to himself, her hand in his as he occasionally tries to warm it up with his breath. He looks impossibly fond of her, and yet Nancy can't help but wonder when he might actually let himself touch her again.

He doesn't go further than holding her hand for the remainder of their journey home, Nancy starting to slowly worry as they make their way up to her apartment, and by the time she's ridding herself of scarf and peacoat, kicking off her shoes, and locking her door behind them, she wonders if she missed some kind of memo.

"You know, I could have sworn that you enjoyed that last kiss, but now I'm starting to think maybe you-- _oh_!"

Nancy feels herself get pushed up against the door, Grigor throwing her an almost chiding look.

"When I do something, you should know by now I'm going to do it right. Could you have imagined what it would have been like if I had started kissing your neck in the cab…"

He captures her neck all too easily, lips and teeth and tongue playing against her skin as she lets out a sharp whimper she thinks she might have been holding in for eight years, his hand slowly touching on her thigh to draw up. "If I had let my fingers play against the skin of your thigh under this… unbelievable dress…"

She can feel him smiling against her skin, Nancy letting her head fall back against her door to capture her lower lip between her teeth.

"If I had started teasing at the edge of your panties… tickling you in exactly the right way to make you squirm in my arms..."

Her eyes flutter shut as her hands press, palms flat, behind her for some semblance of support, feeling Grigor's free hand snake up along the silk of her dress before gently cupping her breast through both it and her bra.

"If I had started feeling you up in the elevator..." He lets his mouth trail down from where he'd been suckling on her neck, instead roaming lower over her chest, nipping gently at the slight swell of her breast peeking out from under her dress, Nancy catching herself moan.

"You would have started making those delicious little noises we both know you make…" he smiles, reaching behind her to draw the zipper of her dress down, down, all the way to the soft curve of her ass. "And I would have been tempted to undress you right then and there..."

Drawing the sleeves of her dress down along her arms, he grins, kissing the exposed skin he finds there, Nancy licking her lips, her breath starting to come a good bit faster by now.

"Maybe you wouldn't have been okay with that… so you would have had to walk me to your door with the zipper of your dress down… and I would have seen fit to reach around from behind you..." Letting the dress pool at her ankles, he gently guides her to turn around and place her hand against the door, his hands eagerly cupping her breasts through her bra, "and I would have just been fondling you right there while you were trying to unlock the door… a harder task, probably, with the added distraction… anyone could have seen us like that… and that just won't do..."

Nancy lets out a long sigh as her eyes flutter shut again, finding his mouth on her neck once more, relentless in its desire to make her whimper, Grigor trailing soft kisses down to her shoulder, only the occasional nip disrupting the movement.

Sliding his hands around from where they had lingered on her breasts to her back, he gently undoes her bra, Nancy moving to stand up straight and drop her arms to let her bra fall to the floor, Grigor's lips continuing to pepper kisses along the crook of her neck and up to just beneath her ear before resting his forehead against her.

"I would have been too tempted to just take you up against the door once we'd finally gotten inside… and that isn't at all befitting what I had in mind for the romantic first night I get to spend with the love of my life in almost eight years, no fear of… death or dying or the Greek mafia or the police getting in the way… just us."

"... what did you have in mind?" Nancy asks softly, turning her head to look at him over her shoulder, his forehead ending up settling nicely against her temple as he presses another delicate kiss to her shoulder.

"I… was thinking that we'd take our time."

"Mhm?"

"Mm," he agrees with a soft chuckle against her skin. "Yes. And we could start with getting you out of… almost all your clothes. And then..."

He picks her up into his arms-- effortlessly, she notes-- Nancy wrapping her arms around his neck following a soft squeal, looking up at him almost impossibly fondly.

"And then…?"

"And then I'd pick you up and carry you into your bedroom princess style, befitting of your own rank and status."

"Oh, _stop_."

"I'd… just need to know where the bedroom is so that I could carry m'lady there."

Nancy grins. "First right down the hall to your left."

"All I needed to know," he smiles, carrying her with astonishing ease, all things considered, Nancy opening the door to her bedroom for him and turning the light on.

"What happens next?"

"Other than me being astonished at how incredibly _neat_ you are? Well... I _was_ planning on setting you down on this bed and ravishing you, Ms. Drew."

"Oh?" She grins. "What's been keeping you?"

"If you really want me to list all of that we'll never get to the ravishing."

"Just come here and kiss me."

He's nothing if not good at obliging her requests, Nancy smiling as he toes his shoes off and climbs up onto the bed after her to kiss her. When he reaches one arm up to start unbuttoning his shirt, Nancy doesn't hesitate in assisting him, quickly and easily ridding him of the obstructive fabric, Grigor sitting up on his knees to discard it.

"You're overdressed," she supplies somewhat smugly, Grigor grinning with a soft shrug.

"I… might have gotten a bit carried away. Not that I can be too heartbroken about that. Besides-- managed to get my point across, didn't I?"

"As to why you suddenly found me… repulsive? Yeah, I'd say so. And, well, I did enjoy the demonstration."

Smiling brightly, he lifts her hand to kiss the back of it. "Good. Want to keep it going?"

"Oh, absolutely."

He grins at that, Grigor briefly climbing off her bed to tug his jeans off, his socks hitting the floor alongside them.

"... better…?"

Rolling onto her side, Nancy props herself up by her arm, easily returning his grin.

"I'd have to say… still overdressed."

" _Oh_.  Oh, I _see_. Well, we _are_ wading into some pretty unfamiliar territory… no going back once these are off…"

"Grigor," her tone chiding, Nancy pursing her lips at him, "I _have_ seen a penis before."

"Not mine," he answers simply, and Nancy realizes after a moment that he's right. Insistent on acting the part of a perfect gentleman, he'd kept his underwear on that night. And then later… there hadn't exactly been time to go about removing clothes in the first place.

"Then I'd say that I'm probably _pre_ -tty overdue."

"Oh?"

Sitting up onto her knees on the bed, she moves back somewhat to make room for him, nodding for him to join her.

"Mmhmm." Besides. She waited eight years for this. "I'm twenty-six; nothing scandalous about me seeing my boyfriend's penis."

"Okay, well, in that case you should know that… it's definitely a cock. Or a dick, if you're feeling so inclined. I don't know what your ex was into, but _penis_ is a bit too clinical for what we're about to be doing."

"Having sex?"

"Making love," he corrects her with a smile, finally moving to join her on the bed, Nancy reaching forward to grab hold of his waistband to pull him nearer. "Maybe even _fucking_ in the future."

She can feel herself flush at his words, the two of them on their knees when Nancy reaches down and starts tracing over the outline of his cock through his boxer briefs, Grigor inhaling sharply as his eyes close at the feeling of her hand gently cupping him. She's intent on taking her time with this, too, after all.

He seems to be a bit bigger than Ned, though not by much, Nancy finally allowing herself to slide his underwear down as she sits back on her heels to get a better look, his cock eagerly escaping its confines.

With his underwear about halfway down his thighs, Nancy let's her hands come up to gently trace along his length, Grigor taking in a deep breath, his eyes slowly closing. She's hardly even done anything yet, her hand happy to rectify that, easily wrapping around his length to gently stroke. His head falls back at that, and Nancy offers the tip of his cock a small, experimental lick, kissing it.

" _God_ , Nancy--"

Leaning in, she takes just the head into her mouth, her hand slowly continuing its ministrations meanwhile as she looks up at him somewhat coyly.

"Mm?" Smug as ever, even with the tip of his cock in her mouth.

"You do realize you're torturing me, right? That this is torture?"

Smiling around his cock, she lets her tongue play over his frenulum, quickly met with a soft twitch from his length. "Mmhmmm…"

He did it to her in Greece… mercilessly teasing her with his tongue until she was left falling apart in his hands. There's hardly a reason she shouldn't return the favor.

Bit by bit, she takes more of him into her mouth. He's not quite as girthy as Ned was, which does seem to make this task a good bit easier, not that she made a habit of regularly servicing Ned orally. It wasn't as though he did the same for her all too often, their sex fairly standard, if ritualistic. Routine. Others might have said boring, but…

She can't help but wonder if-- _how_ \-- this will be different, Nancy getting momentarily distracted amidst Grigor's groans as tendrils of hair keep coming loose from her updo. Pulling back, she sits up to draw the small, ornamental comb out of her hair-- one that had caused so much trouble during her China case, a fake, if very well done, replica of a near-priceless artifact belonging to Chinese history.

But Grigor doesn't need to know that part, her hair coming free from its former confines.

"Let me just grab a hair tie--"

"Nononono. No hair ties. Come here."

As confused as she is, she obliges, Grigor cupping her face with a small smile.

"We have so much time to do that still. But if you hadn't stopped soon, anyway, I would have finished far sooner than I want to tonight." He presses a soft kiss to her forehead. "Let me take care of you. Please."

The smile playing on Nancy's lips is almost coquettish as she raises a curious eyebrow. "You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Karakinos. But… I suppose I could be persuaded to let you take care of me."

"Oh, well in that case, I hope you won't mind me auditioning for the role..."

"And how is that?"

He grins, mischievous, hints of Peter Pan flittering across his features before she blinks the illusion away, Grigor easily grabbing hold of her ass to swiftly flip her onto her back, Nancy squeaking softly as she feels him part her legs just as Moses did an ocean, effortlessly and skillfully.

"First," he grins, "we set the stage."

He helps her ease off her panties with a smile before turning his attention to her hips, the soft, rounded hills and occasional valleys of her stomach, slowly starting to litter kisses over her abdomen, moving lower, lower…

He pulls back to a soft squeak of protest from her, Nancy undeniably pouting as she glances down at him.

"Then," he grins up at her, smug bastard, "it's on me to show you just how much every part of you matters."

" _Every_ part?" Nancy can't help but as, skepticism slowly eking its way into her voice.

"Don't get me wrong… I'm already planning out a whole routine to devote to your back… massage oils, soft music…"

"Uh-huh…"

"But I also am still a man. And one that hasn't gotten to be with the love of his life in almost eight years, at that. I'm hardly… a bottomless well of patience."

"Oh thank _god_ ," Nancy sighs in utter relief, Grigor grinning up at her as he takes one of her legs in his hands, letting her heel rest easily on his shoulder as he starts on the inside of her foot, slowly kissing his way up the inside of her thigh. He's taking his time, Nancy truly only willing to endure another round of this on the other leg given the knowledge that he won't hold back that time, her hips arching up as his lips near her center.

" _Please_ \--" she groans, Grigor's hesitation seeming to ebb off him in waves as she slowly realizes that that's precisely what he was hoping for, getting to hear her beg, now looking all too satisfied with himself as he moves her legs over his shoulder and licks a long stripe up her center.

And suddenly Nancy doesn't care anymore, her head falling back, fingers tangling in the pillow under her head, a sharp gasp leaving her throat without warning.

It wasn't entirely Ned's fault that they did this as rarely as they did.

It's just that with the memory of _this_ etched into her soul, it's hard not to consider everything short of it a bad knockoff, her hips arching up to meet his tongue as he eats her out-- greedy, like a man starving-- his thumb meanwhile teasing her clit.

He's drinking her down like she's all ambrosia and honey, Nancy letting her eyes roll up and back as she reaches one hand down to tangle her fingers in his hair, eagerly-- _no_ , desperately-- willing him closer.

"P-please," she whimpers again, tugging insistently on his hair to get his mouth on her clit, Grigor quick to oblige, two fingers entering her to replace the absence left by his tongue's departure from inside of her.

Her body is slowly starting to heave and tremble under him, her hips willing themselves ever closer to him. She knows he's all too familiar with the signs-- she's close, and incredibly so-- his fingers starting to thrust in and out of her-- slow at first, then picking up in speed as she lets out another impatiently keening moan.

"G-Grigor--"

She's about to beg him for more-- in any way, really, whether faster, harder, or deeper-- but then she finds herself tumbling over the precipice that is her orgasm, Nancy's lips parting in a silent scream, her breaths coming fast and hard instead.

By the time she comes back down from her high, she can barely even keep her thighs from trembling, her breath from hitching. Her fingers are in her hair as though they had been desperate for something solid and predictable to hold onto.

Not that any of this qualifies, Nancy nevertheless smiling up at Grigor almost sleepily as he hovers over her on all fours.

"Well… did I pass?"

"Oh," Nancy laughs in half-disbelief, half-exhaustion, "you've definitely gotten the part."

"Does this mean you're going to deny me round two…?"

Her eyes widening, Nancy lets out another laugh, quick to nod despite her grin. "Mmhmm. I've waited long enough to have this... _all_ I want is to feel you again."

"And you're gonna ditch me after you've gotten yours? My god, Ms. Drew, I would have never taken you for someone so callous!" he laughs, Nancy grabbing the pillow to her left to whack him in the head with it. "Don't worry," he smiles, leaning down to softly kiss her, "short of you telling me that you've changed your mind… there isn't a thing that could hold me back."

Not anymore.

When he kisses her again this time, it's meant to last, Grigor pouring every bit of passion and love and _missing her_ into it, Nancy eagerly wrapping her legs around his waist.

"Mm--"

She doesn't expect it when he draws his cock up and down her folds, teasing mercilessly at her entrance, Nancy slowly starting to squirm, her hips desperate to draw him closer, to draw him inside of her.

The damn _tease_.

When he does pull back from her lips, she finds fairly quickly it's not to let her protest-- though she does certainly try-- Grigor instead lining himself up, his forehead coming to rest on hers with a smile.

"You… have had sex since the last time I saw you, right?"

"If you're talking about yesterday, no..." She throws him a chiding look; really, this should not be a difficult question to figure out. "If we're talking about Greece, then yes. I have been sexually active since then."

"Good," he whispers with a soft smile against her lips before pushing himself all the way inside of her, Nancy gasping sharply at the feeling.

"Oh--"

"Tell me if you need me to slow down--"

"Absolutely _not_ \--"

It's the only urging on he seems to need from her, Grigor more than happy to start moving in and out of her, slow at first, Nancy pulling him in for another kiss as she meets each of his thrusts, fighting to hold back her moans even as he happily steals them from her lips.

His hand reaches down to grab her thigh, easily hitching it up, Nancy feeling his cock slide all the deeper inside of her with a sharp gasp, his lips tracing a path down her jaw to her neck where he suckles. It's impossible to keep her noise level entirely reasonable, and she clutches onto him almost desperately, her eyes fluttering shut as one of her hands grabs for the headboard for something to hold onto.

"Grigor--"

When he adds his fingers into the mix, the pad of his thumb playing against her clit between their bodies, she just about falls apart, Nancy spreading her hand over her mouth to contain her cries.

And when she feels herself come, walls clenching relentlessly around his cock, the sensation driving her to bite down on the heel of her hand, she finds herself almost sobbing her moans of pleasure as Grigor speeds up through his last few thrusts. Her own breathing is still desperately ragged even as he buries his face in the crook of her neck with a groan, Nancy feeling him move into her one, two more times before his hips jerk and still, her orgasm eagerly milking him of his come as he clutches onto her like she's his lifeline, his harbor.

The world feels… oddly right when he leans in to pepper kisses over her cheek, her temple, finally taking the time to kiss her properly, hand cupping her face, thumb playing against her skin when he pulls back to look at her.

"I love you. So much more than I could ever tell you."

"I love you, too," she whispers, and finds that the words are easy to form when they're meant for him, her reticence melting away with his arms around her.

 

 

&

 

 

They end up ordering Chinese delivery (after Grigor finds out that she's had nothing to eat for most of the day), the two of them curled up on her bed. Under normal circumstances, in her last relationship, she would have never so much as even considered the possibility of eating _in bed_ , but this feels like a special occasion, and she finds that Grigor can be surprisingly persuasive.

It's nice, the way he occasionally leans over to kiss the top of her head, burying his nose in her hair as he smiles against her.

"I can't believe you decided to skip the cast party to hang out with me."

He laughs, a loud, warm sound that she quickly finds she desperately missed hearing.

"What, and be around my ex all night? Nah, I'll pass." He smiles down at her, Nancy unable to help but echo the sight. "I'm… sorry it took this long; if I had known--"

If he had known she'd want him. If he had known that she was here. If he had known that she'd leave anyone just for the chance to finally be with him.

"No," she shakes her head with a smile, happily cutting him off. "It worked out exactly the way it needed to."

Lifting her hand, he kisses her knuckles, his eyes closing for a moment. "I want to be with you. More than anything. I want you to be my family. And then I want us to make one. I already know I love you. And I'll do anything to make this-- us-- work."

"I'm just glad there's an _us_ to make work in the first place."

He leans in to kiss her again at that, deep and tender and endlessly loving, Nancy happy to return the sentiment in kind.

She feels impossibly lucky.


End file.
